Multiplayer Chronicles: Ghost Town
by Sentimental Semantics
Summary: Part of Obsidian Thirteen's 'Multiplayer Chronicles' series. Now complete.
1. Helljumpers

**Hello there.**

**So, judging by the fact that you're reading this, I'd guess that the summary and title interested you to at least some extent. I have little to elaborate upon—this is a chronicling of events that happen at the Halo 3 multiplayer map 'Ghost Town', and is part of Obsidian Thirteen's 'Multiplayer Chronicles' series.**

**With that, go ahead and try reading a bit. See if it interests you any further. Without further delay, here is…Ghost Town.**

---'Helljumpers'

The memories from before we got to Ghost Town are foggy at best. Since the Brass apparently didn't have any pelicans to spare, we had to go it on foot. And, obviously, we were all used to it—but everybody's got limits.

We spent days and days trudging through those jungles. Bugs definitely would have been a problem if it wasn't for our armor—they didn't have a chance of getting to our skin through that. Unfortunately—and I'm not one to criticize the armor—it wasn't exactly ideal for a jungle environment. It could have been worse, I guess.

But like I said, our platoon—Askar Squad—humped our equipment through that jungle for quite some time. And we had a lot of equipment with us, too—but I guess that was our own fault for not packing heavy.

In addition to my weapon of choice, the MA5C Assault Rifle, I carried four fragmentation grenades, five clips of ammunition, a combat knife I'd never used, and my trusty M6G sidearm. Some of the other guys were unlucky enough to carry much more than that; as our RTO and Radio-man, Abraham Zhao carried a BR55HB Battle Rifle, a M7 Caseless Sub-Machine Gun, as well as one of those big communication-backpacks attached to the back of his armor. Mitchell Henley, the biggest guy in our entire platoon, toted around the M90 Shotgun, a pistol, four grenades, and not one, but _two_ combat knives (I have no clue why, to be honest)—which probably says quite a bit about his personality. There was also Dennis Lansing, our medic—he carried around two M6Gs, one on each hip, as well as the assorted equipment that all medics have with them constantly (primarily morphine and a hell of a lot of dog tags). Our man in charge, Alem, used a BR and an AR—he always had one of them attached to his back. Then there was the rest of the team—Rodgers, Hutson, and Fisk. I guess you could call them the heart and soul of our team. Rodgers was our sniper, Hutson was his spotter (he, like Mitch, used a shotgun), and Fisk…well…I guess he was our comedian.

Maybe the most frustrating thing about our time in the jungle was how quiet we had to be. If any of us had fired one bullet, we would all be dead in a matter of minutes—Covenant seemed to be everywhere. We had to sneak by more aliens than I can count—and at night we had to go dark. That might have been the worst of all—all lights off, just crouching there, listening to the sounds of the Covenant. Sometimes they were looking for us, some times they weren't—but either way it was scary as hell.

But, we made it—all of us. There was quite a bit of relief when we finally entered the clearing that held the Ghost Town base—but, at the same time, there was disappointment. It was shit—a dilapidated water processing and purification facility that had obviously seen better days. Thankfully, though, we weren't the first ones to get there—about eighty or so marines were waiting for us. What we hadn't counted on was being the only ODSTs—and, as such, there were high expectations set for us.

We knew our mission, even if the others didn't. The brutes were going to come for us because, in an attempt to keep them from discovering Crow's Nest, they had 'discovered' the location of Ghost Town through several comm. relays shortly after we arrived at the base. And now they were going to come and claim it for themselves. Or try, at least.

It's true, we could have ordered a massive evacuation—but where to? Not Crow's Nest, obviously—that would just make the entire plan worthless. Rat's Nest? No, it had already been wiped off of the map. Wherever we went, the Covenant would follow—better to just hold our ground.

The sentiment among our little team, though nobody said it outright, was that everybody would be leaving this mission in a body bag.

---

**I hope you enjoyed it enough to try reading the next chapter! **

**Several things you may have noticed: firstly, it is written in first person. This is not a recurring theme—this chapter serves as a sort of prologue to the rest of the story (explaining why it was this short), which follows the same character, but in third person. Hopefully, however, this gave you a fairly good idea of our protagonist's personality. A second thing you may have noticed is the chapter's title—while this title cannot be identified as being part of a trend, I hope that how I name my chapters becomes evident over the course of the story.**

**Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Please, Make Yourself At Home

**Here's chapter 2….Although I guess its really more like chapter 1. Regardless, here it is. I'm aware that it is quite short, and I apologize…**

--'Please, Make Yourself at Home'

The midday sun cast an odd sheen over Ghost Town—or what could be seen of it from the outskirts of the surrounding forest, anyway. Marines were scattered across the clearing, walking around or lying in the shade. Through silvery-blue visors, an ODST platoon codenamed 'Askar Squad' took it all in.

The biggest one of the bunch gave a grunt. "Hell," He muttered with a rough cockney accent, "Its about time we found this place."

"This is it?" a slightly smaller ODST next to him asked incredulously. This Helljumper held a battle rifle, as opposed to the bigger one's shotgun, and also had a large backpack on. "This is the base?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Zhao," Another ODST spoke up. This one, unlike the others, had red markings on his pauldrons, instead of the white that marked the other seven shock troopers. "Move out. Let's get down there."

The others all gave of some sort of affirmative, ranging from 'yes-sir' to a grunts of approval, and they started towards the base.

"It'll feel good to sleep in a bed again," The big Englishman commented.

"Even if they do have beds," a wiry ODST standing next to him replied, "I doubt they'd have any that fit you, Henley." Some of the other ODSTs chuckled as the man named Henley gave the wiry fellow a playful punch to the shoulder.

"Stow it, Fisk."

At the center of the group stood two silent ODSTs, side by side. One clutched his assault rifle tightly, as if expecting an attack any minute, while the other casually had his shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Something on your mind, Jack?" The more relaxed one asked his companion.

Jack looked slowly to his companion, as if distracted. "…No, nothing."

"Bullshit, man." The shotgun-man's accent was barely noticeable, but it had a distinct Texan drawl. "You look on edge."

Jack made a guttural noise, as if surprised that his uneasiness was that noticeable. "You don't think any of the brutes could be following us, do you?"

"Nah, man, you've been near those things. You can smell 'em right through the headset's filters."

Under his helmet, Jack smiled. "Yeah…I suppose so, Andrew. Still, something's not right."

"Lighten up, man. I mean, not to sound harsh, but the Covenant are going to find us eventually. That's our mission; they're _supposed _to." He paused for a second. "But, we're finally here—relax and let loose." Andrew Hutson suggested.

"Words from the master." Jack's odd reply was, in truth, quite factual; though he was the team's second in command, Hutson wasn't exactly the most uptight soldier—though his ability to suddenly become serious in a combat situation was astounding.

Askar Squad broke from the trees and got their first real look at Ghost Town—well, part of it, anyway. They were standing directly above an open area pockmarked with large, blue containers. An arch led under a large wall leading farther into the base, and a slightly broken building was at the center of it all—just ahead of them, slightly to their left. The large wall leading off of the building that was visible was far too high to climb, but just under the tunnel beneath it was a short walkway leading to its far side.

A sniper shot suddenly slammed into the tree just behind Henley, splintering its bark and making a loud bang that reverberated and broke the quiet of midday. "Hold your fire!" The ODST with red marks roared. If any marines hadn't been paying attention to the newcomers when they suddenly broke from the jungle, the shot had grabbed their attention instantly.

"Dipshit," Henley muttered, shooting a glare at the far-off marine who was guiltily clutching a sniper rifle. The marine couldn't have been older than twenty, and had an apologetic look on his face.

"Well," Andrew said slowly, "If any Covenant were following us, they sure as hell know where we are now."

"Gunnery Sergeant Alem, sir!" A marine ran up to them from the masses about—Jack himself counted at least thirty. The eight men turned to him slowly, and he saluted to the red-marked Nasser Alem. "Corporal Hoffman. Good to have you with us, Sergeant."

"Who's in charge here, soldier?" Alem asked.

"Lieutenant Cross, sir. She's just over by the command center. C'mon, I'll take you there." Then, he turned, and hotfooted it towards the opening under the wall. The ODSTs were right behind him.

"She?" Henley said slowly.

"Yes, big guy. Try and keep it in your pants, will you?" For what far from the second time that day, Fisk cracked a joke at Henley's expense. This was met with further cackling and another playful slug to the shoulder. "Hey, man, my shoulder's been sore for weeks!"

"Deal with it."

The marines they passed saluted awkwardly or gave a thumbs up to the group, who ignored them for the most part. A few nods were exchanged between the Helljumpers and their more common comrades as they passed through the small arch under the wall and emerged on the other side. This side housed a good deal of elevated walkways and catwalks, and the remains of some parts of the building's structure were visible everywhere.

Directly in front of them was a large, open building that looked like it had once been something in between a garage and a storage facility. Its lowest level was raised above the ground by a steep ramp. One level up were two massive sheets of metal—large, brown monstrosities blocking most of the second level from view. A small opening was visible in between the two.

As they walked up the acutely-steep incline and into the large, open ruin, it became clear that it had been chosen as a command center. Tables had been set up around the room, and they were covered with various pieces of technology—computers, radar scanners, radio transmitters—it was a standard rig for an outpost. Techs, wearing their typical uniform, were hunched over various pieces of the technology, scrambling from table to table, as busy as ants.

In the middle of it was a single marine wearing typical olive combat garb. They had no helmet—a small bun of brunette hair could be seen, neatly tied. The woman, for it was a she, had their hands clasped behind their back. She was not pretty in the normal sense, but something about her seemed to exude grace and authority—this person was clearly a leader at heart.

"Sergeant," The woman said as the group of ODSTs approached. She held out her hand. "Glad they sent us some competent reinforcement."

_Honestly_, Jack thought to himself, _Could be saying the same of you._

"Its good to be here, Lieutenant." Alem, still masked, shook the woman's hand firmly. "You seem to have quite an operation going here."

"I would like to think so," Cross replied. "I've got at least eighty men here, and we've set up a defensive perimeter. All of our tech seems to be fully functional, so if the Covenant try anything, we'll know they're coming in advance. I just hope it'll be enough."

"Ma'am?" Alem asked curiously.

The el-tee's expression was grim. "The Covenant know we're here, and there's no doubt they'll be coming for us soon. We don't know what kind of numbers they'll be bringing, but its likely that we'll be outnumbered. We're preparing for the worst." The ODSTs were uncomfortable; they had known this was going to happen all along. Fortunately, they had their helmets to cover their facial expressions—not one let their feelings show. "The marines' morale is low, but hopefully your arrival will help change that. I'm certain you and your men are the best fighters here—my men are going to look to you for leadership."

Alem nodded understandingly. "How soon can we expect an attack?"

"No clue. But it will be soon enough." She stopped, sighed, and then continued. "We're in a real bad situation here. We should have prepped for evac, but there's nowhere for us to go. We've decided to hold out here as long as we can, to take attention away from Crow's Nest. There's a chance, though, that none of us will be leaving this base."

"Whatever the situation, ma'am, you can count on us. We go feet first."

--

**I don't want to reveal too much of the plot of the next chapter, so all I will say is…well…guns will be fired. **

**Any reviews would be greatly appreciated, as always. **


	3. Field Expedient

**I would like to give a thank-you to my first reviewer, MJOLNIR117. Other than that, I have no announcements to make...however, I think the story may be somewhat dysfunctional; it does not seem to appear in the Halo section, or any other section for that matter, from what I can see.  
**

**Anyhow, here's chapter 3...obviously. For the first time, there's actually some combat! I hope it is a good read.  
**

--'Field Expedient'

Jack was no expert on military psychology, but he had experienced the effects of war first hand—and he could see that the marines at Ghost Town had seen better days.

Askar Squad had been at Ghost Town for the better part of two days—it had been a relaxing break from their prior activities. Still, they didn't let their lethargy take hold of them completely—the Squad scoured the base for possible weaknesses, choke points, and sniper roosts. They were happy to find that the base, as dilapidated as it was, could be an effective fortress. Then, they sized up the amount of weaponry in the base—while there was plenty of ammo for standard issue weapons like the assault and battle rifles, the base offered little heavy weaponry—there were two rocket launchers total, with only two shots apiece. There were also two machine gun turrets, which could come in handy—but there was only a single sniper rifle in the base, which had already been taken, and no other heavy weapons such as the coveted Spartan Laser. Oddly enough, however, there was a surplus of shotgun ammo (Fisk had grimly commented that, since CQB soldiers were the most likely to die, it made sense), which might come in handy. There were no vehicles either, other than a single Mongoose ATV.

Finally, they had simply watched the marines. Though some of them seemed to be in higher spirits than others, the overall mentality of the soldiers seemed to be grim, as if simply waiting to die. Jack couldn't blame them, but regardless they were a sorry bunch. He had yet to interact with any of them personally, and none of them had made attempts to talk to him—the only crossing over between the shock troops and the marines, it seemed, was Alem talking to Cross and Henley threatening the marine who had almost shot him. How that particular marine had been able to access the base's solitary sniper rifle was a mystery—fortunately, however, Askar Squad's sniper was reliable enough—Rodgers had yet to let the rest of the squad down.

Jack was currently propped up against the wall (second floor) of the building known as the Atrium. It was a long, narrow, and filled with rubble—the structure was falling apart, and already plants had taken it over—a massive tree was present in the middle of the room, almost reaching up to the windows on the building's curved top.

His stream of thought was suddenly interrupted as his helmet comm. came alive with a burst of static. "Askar Squad, report to the command center, double time. We're needed."

And with that it went silent. Jack sighed as he pushed off of the wall and grabbed his AR, which he had left of the floor nearby. He headed for the opening on the Atrium's far side and ran across the wooden plank leading to the central structure of Ghost Town. He made his way through a corridor, passing morose-looking marines, and walked down a broken wall used as a ramp. He then crossed another wooden walkway leading over the main alleyway of the base, and headed into the HQ's far entrance, which was fairly well concealed behind a large tree.

When he entered, he saw the rest of the team filing in and standing to attention in a line in front of Alem and Cross. Dodging past several scurrying engineers and techies, he moved into place at the end of the line.

"What the situation, sir?" Hutson asked from the far side of the line.

"The tech boys here seem to have found something." Alem said, just before Lieutenant Cross took over.

"We've got a medium-sized blip on the radar. Very faint, and on the edge of the radar's range, so we can't be sure, but we think its Covenant, or maybe even UNSC out there. We need someone to go check it out."

"Could they have been following us?" the team's medic, Lansing, asked, voicing Jack's thoughts.

"No. Your team came in from the North, and the anomaly is to the east. We haven't attempted radio contact for the sake of stealth, but we have been hearing odd UNSC frequencies lately, so it's possible that it really is human. Regardless, it shouldn't be too difficult, just some recon."

"We're on it, ma'am," Alem said reassuringly as the voice of the team. "Move out, squad!"

And so Jack, now in the company of the rest of Askar Squad, made his way back towards the Atrium. When they reached the wooden plank leading one story over the ground and bridging the gap in between the central building and its more-dilapidated neighbor, however, they passed it by—instead heading down a ramp of debris that lead them to the course ground. A series of pipes marked the edge of the base (Jack remembered having to explore them for possible vantage points), and the Squad clambered up over the pipes before heading east.

"Damn, I was just starting to like that woman, too," Zhao said as he threw one glance back at the human fortifications.

"Focus, man," Lansing advised. "We've got a job to do here." And with that, they faded into the dense undergrowth.

The feeling of insecurity that came from being in the midst of a thick and possibly-dangerous jungle quickly returned to the squad, though they didn't let it show. Being shock troopers, they had abandoned most of the superstitious beliefs that marked lesser troops—the fear that there was a bloodthirsty alien awaiting them behind each and every tree was long gone…even though, quite depressingly, that was quite possible.

They trudged through the jungle for at least twenty minutes before Alem, who had point, held up a warning, gloved palm—'hold'. The team instantly came to a stop, tense and ready for action. The gloved palm slowly contorted into a clenched fist. The squad formed up, weapons at the ready.

"Sarge?" Hutson asked.

"Movement, possible hostiles. About fifty meters up." He paused, before quickly muttering, "Dunne, take point."

Jack nodded and crept towards the front of the group, slowly and stealthily sneaking forward through the undergrowth. He could just barely hear the squad behind him, slinking along in his wake. They had run the simulations countless times—hell, they had done the real thing a countless times.

Eyes peeled for movement, they kept up the slow crawl for at least twenty more meters. That was when Jack saw something—a small glint through the undergrowth. "Sergeant," he said, hoping it hadn't just been his imagination, "I got something."

"Elaborate, Dunne."

"Can't tell you much, sir—just a flicker. Maybe power armor."

"Got it. Proceed five meters up, take up positions behind that log. See if you can get eyes-on. Fisk, Henley, you're with me, we're circling around."

"Dream team," Fisk chuckled, which was followed by the usual group of 'stow it' remarks. In combat, Fisk's sense of humor could be a bit of an annoyance.

Jack proceeded up until he was behind the massive, toppled tree trunk that obscured a good deal of his vision. He crouched there, with Rodgers on his left and Lansing on his right. Zhao and Hutson were undoubtedly farther down the trunk.

Lansing poked his head over and instantly ducked back, like a startled rabbit. "Shit. Sarge, definite contacts. Covenant."

Jack could hear several quiet curses over the comm. from other members of the squad—Abe Zhao's voice was clearly audible. "Numbers?"

"Count at least two bravo-kilos, plus plenty of subordinates. Standard armament."

"Roger that, I've got eyes." Alem's mike cut out for a split second as he opened to a wider frequency. Cross, this is Askar. We've spotted a Covenant attack group here. Haven't spotted us yet."

"Numbers?"

"Sufficient to do some damage to the base, but nothing we can't handle. Request permission to engage."

There was a silence.

"…Negative, sergeant. We have our intel, proceed back to base without alerting the enemy."

Rodgers let out a sigh next to Jack, and Jack looked over the log again for an extended peek, and found himself wishing for a rocket launcher. He could see them clearly—and, from estimates, he counted at least eleven grunts, seven jackals, and two brutes—one a major with gold armor and a brute shot, the other a minor with light blue armor and a spiker. But then he noticed what seemed to have the brutes' attention—both were standing over a wrecked mongoose with a pair of human bodies strewn nearby.

As Jack ducked back, he swore he saw one of the bodies move.

"Survivors!" He whispered, off comm., before quickly flicking onto his team's frequency again and saying, "Sarge—"

But the man needed no notification, for he had seen it too. "Please reconsider, Lieutenant," He whispered. "We have a possibility of UNSC survivors in the vicinity. Please advise."

Another, but shorter, pause. "Engage. No need to keep things quiet."

"Askar Team," Alem said with finality, and Jack heard the sergeant remove his weapon's safety. "Weapons-free."

For the Covies, things rapidly deteriorated. Askar Team rose up from cover, and their weapons sounded off and let loose with deadly intent. The first spurt of battle rifle fire cut down at least six of the grunts, and the rest dashed for cover—only two made it. The jackals with shields instantly ignited them—those that attempted to block incoming fire from one group of ODSTs were killed from fire from the other direction, and the remainder screeched and ran, their shields raised above their heads pathetically. None of the aliens knew the exact location of their enemies, so they estimated, firing in the general direction of the opposition. The two brutes, the biggest threats, raised their weapons—but Rodgers was faster than the big apes. As the major raised its brute shot, Rodgers rose up and fired a single shot from his sniper rifle that went clean through the back of the brute's head. The sound of the shot almost took away Jack's hearing. The second brute, watching the death of its superior, hunched over and dashed for cover while calling to the remainder of the Covenant troops to form up.

"No survivors!" Alem ordered, insistent that no Covenant escaped to tell of the ODST presence. "Let 'em have it!"

Jack was using his M6G—it was more effective for scoring headshots at the twenty-meter range than his MA5C. He fired twice, and a grunt went down with a groan, its plasma pistol falling uselessly to the ground. Three of the four remaining jackals had carbines, and their raised them to retaliate, opening fire on Jack's (and the majority of the team's) position behind the log. They ducked down as the fire whistled over them, but Zhao's battle rifle sounded off twice from further down the cover. He whooped as two of the jackals fell, and the third was taken out by Alem.

As the remaining grunts were slaughtered, the brute roared and grabbed one of the dead marines with its free left hand and raised it. The marine, however, was far from dead—it gave a scream that was choked out by the brute's grip. The massive beast held its hostage up, snarling, and placed one of its spiker's bayonets against the marines throat. The threat was obvious, and the ODSTs instantly stopped firing.

"Rodgers, do you have a shot?" Alem whispered over the comm., but the answer would never come, for quite suddenly there was a distraction.

A roar sounded as a third brute with dark blue captain's armor, previously unseen, dashed out of cover and opened fire on Alem's position with a brute shot. The rest of the marines switched their focus to this new brute and opened up—in the corner of his eye, however, Jack saw the minor brute yank his weapon horizontally and slit the marine's throat.

"Shit!" Jack shouted. The new brute was already dead, killed from the combined fire of Askar Squad. However, the minor brute headed for the undergrowth.

"Rodgers!" Alem commanded, but it was not necessary. Rodger's sniper rifle sounded off with another bang, and the brute fell forwards with a roar—a hole was visible in its torso.

There was the odd silence that accompanied the end of a battle—the sudden return of normality, the last bits of bloodlust. A few seconds later, this silence was broken by Hutson's curious remark, "No headshot?"

This was not an insult, or a joke, as much as it was a question—it was very rare that Rodgers would not kill an enemy with a shot to the cranium. "There was a branch in the way," Rodgers explained factually.

"Helljumpers, let's check out the scene. Search for survivors, friend and foe." The team broke cover just before Alem added, "Rodgers, stay there, make sure nothing is coming from a distance."

Rodgers—as always, the team's guardian angel.

The seven other ODSTs moved in, looking from body to body. Henley gave one of the dead grunts a kick before quickly saying, "That was easy."

"I didn't even switch mags," Fisk added, examining his MA5C. As Jack watched, he reached down and grabbed a plasma pistol, which he quickly attached to his belt. The rest of the team, however, ignored the firearms of the enemy dead.

"What about those two marines and the ATV?" Alem inquired.

"The Mongoose is busted," Hutson said grimly, looking over the scene, "And the two marines are dead." He rose up, holding two dog tags, which he lobbed to Lansing. Lansing grabbed them and put them away quietly, in a pouch that was next to one of his two M6Gs.

"Damn. Enemy survivors?" Alem continued.

Almost on cue, a brute gave a dispirited growl. Jack looked over and saw the one that had been shot through the chest reaching for its spiker, just before its head exploded. "Negative," Zhao said, lowering his BR.

"Alem! Sit-rep," Cross's voice blurted through the comm.

"Battle's over, ma'am. No casualties from Askar Squad, but human survivor was killed. No Covenant survivors either."

There was a muttering noise over the comm. "Understood. Return to base. Cross out." As Alem talked, Andrew lobbed Jack the ammo from the humans—two clips of AR rounds, and one magnum round. Jack, in turn, handed the pistol ammo to Lansing, and one of the AR clips to Fisk. "Move it out, Askar Squad. We're headed back to base!"

"Waste of time," Henley muttered as they turned to leave the scene of battle.

"I thought you liked action, man."

"You know what I like, Fisk?"

"What?"

"I like when you shut up."

--

**Well, I hoped it was at least an _okay _battle scene. Its the first one I've ever posted in the Halo section, so I really don't know what to make of it myself...**

**Any reviews would be appreciated, and thanks for reading.**

**KEEP IT CLEAN  
**


	4. Healthy Competition

**Here's the new chapter.**

---'Healthy Competition'

Brute Chieftain Kronus was a terrifying sight to all—his enemies and his subordinates. Standing more than eight feet tall with black fur that was silvering with age, claws that could slash through flesh and large teeth with enough force to break bone, he was formidable enough in physicality. However, to further augment his deadly prowess, he wore heavy, red and black Chieftain's armor, and had a gravity hammer slung across his back, as well as a plasma rifle latched to his hip.

Though the mere sight of him was enough to send his enemies into retreat, it was his ruthlessness as a leader that was really feared. He was far wiser than most members of his species, and had a deadly cunning—it was how he had risen to his lofty seat of command, holding dominion over countless Jiralhanae lances. He was a veteran of numerous campaigns, and ruled his warriors with an iron fist. No force had yet to stop the mighty brute leader.

Currently, his eye was on a recently discovered human holdout—some sort of abandoned ruin that had been reclaimed by the little heretics as a fortress. Apparently, according to several human prisoners (prior to their execution and consumption), it was becoming a rally point of human troops.

Kronus was determined to change that.

But before he sent in his legions to raze the place, he had to think it through with more than just a tactical standpoint. True, he could have sent in all of his troops to simply slaughter the humans and eliminate them quickly, and effectively avenge his missing (obviously killed) expeditionary force…but it would not help Kronus himself in any way.

There was a strong probability that there was more than he knew to this heretic encampment—and no doubt it was dangerous, as well. No, better to accomplish another goal while he was at it.

There were quite a few threats to Kronus' authority—some more blatant than others. Many Jiralhanae desired the power that his position granted, and they were far too eager to try and claim it for Kronus' liking. So, he had come up with a sound plan.

Carinus was a proud warrior—strong and mighty, and with the will to lead. Kronus saw several aspects of himself in the slightly-younger Jiralhanae, and that was a threat. He was too likely a possible challenger to his leadership role…it would be best to dispose of him.

But Kronus could not simply murder one of his own captains, revered by subordinates, for that reason alone. He needed the captain to die, but there would have to be a suitable excuse…and what better excuse than to send him off to capture a heretic outpost? Of course, there was a chance that Carinus would actually succeed and capture the place—for there was little knowledge of it from the interrogations—but, if he did, it was not tragic. Another victory to be added to his long list of campaigns—he would be the one who received the honor for wiping out the encampment, even if it was not directly by his hand. And if Carinus failed? No matter. One threat eliminated, and any losses from the battle could be easily replaced—for his legions and reinforcements seemed infinite.

Kronus smiled wickedly, baring his fangs, as he turned to one of his bodyguards. "Send word to Carinus that he is to report here immediately. I have a mission for him."

---

As the prospect of a Covenant attack grew more and more likely, the marines of Ghost Town seemed to snap out of their fearful lethargy, and entered a state of rapid preparation for an attack. The number of soldiers on guard duty at a single time increased significantly, and the frantic work of the techies elevated to new heights.

However, just because the base had suddenly become far more active did not mean that the morale increased. While the prospect of an ODST platoon had reinforced the marines' sense of security, Lieutenant Cross had made it quite clear through her orders that no one was to leave the base's premises—so, one way or another, they would face off against the Covenant.

Jack tentatively placed the massive piece of equipment he was holding—a trip mine—into the small hole in the ground he had dug. He was about thirty meters away from the base's perimeter, setting up traps, along with the rest of his team…It seemed that they were now doing all of the outpost's necessary defensive chores. However, this time, they had gotten a bit of help.

Jack pushed piles of soil back over the trip mine, concealing it from view. He then slowly backtracked away from it, and turned to the marine standing nearby.

"Are all the explosives in position?" Alem asked over the comm.

"This one's ready," Jack could easily recognize Hutson's voice, with what sounded like Rodgers and Zhao talking in the background.

"Affirmative," Jack said in turn.

"Ours is in place," Fisk said, through a burst of static.

"Ready and concealed." Henley's comment did little to hide the sadistic enjoyment he got out of laying the trap.

Jack turned to the marine, who was holding a small remote. "Go ahead," Jack said, and the marine pressed the remote's single button. From its hidden position, the trip mine gave a beep.

"Mine works, sir," Jack said into his comm.

"No problems here."

"Yeah, it's fully functional. Heading back to base."

"I'd hate to be the alien that stumbles across this thing."

Jack again turned to the marine—one of two marines who had come with him, since he had no ODST accompaniment. "Thanks," He said shortly, already moving back up towards the base.

"No problem, man," The marine said pleasantly, his voice thick with an Australian accent. Behind him, the other marine—who Jack had quickly noted was female, nodded at the Helljumper as well.

The three moved quietly, until the Australian broke the silence again. "So, what's your name, man?"

Jack turned to him, slowly. "…Jack. Jack Dunne."

"I'm Peasley," The marine replied amicably, before throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the third member of the team. "That's Kayla."

Jack nodded to Kayla slowly. She was, in truth, quite beautiful; she wore no helmet, and, like Cross, her hair was in a bun—but, unlike Cross, there were no signs of aging and grayness present in her (Kayla's hair, also, was blonde, as opposed to Cross' brunette). She was on the short side, and was about 5'5, but that did little to take away from her pretty and curvaceous form.

Jack pulled his gazed away quickly, however. Just because he hadn't seen a woman in quite a while didn't mean he was head-over-heels just to check a woman out…unlike Hutson or Henley, who seemed to be quite obsessed with women.

What worried Jack about this woman, however, was that she reminded him of someone. Her stance, her stride, her eyes—they reminded him of Amelia, his girlfriend. Thoughts of Amelia, however, pained him—she had been killed in the Covenant attack on Reach. Still, just looking at this Kayla created a painful influx of happy memories.

The resemblance wasn't simply superficial, however. They were far from identical (firstly, this Kayla looked distinctly Italian or Polish, whereas Amelia had been of Korean descent), but something about them was similar…Jack just couldn't quite place it. It had something to do with the eyes, though…

"Nice to meet you," Peasley continued, bringing Jack back to the present.

"How do you do?" Kayla spoke up quite suddenly, speaking to Jack's back. When she spoke, however, there was the tiniest hint of an accent, something that Jack had become especially good at noting. _German_, he thought.

He chuckled to himself quietly at this, but it apparently wasn't so quiet. "What?" He heard Peasley ask.

He turned and dismissively said, "Nothing," He said, "Just…well…never-mind, actually."

"So, what's your story, mate?" Peasley asked. He seemed to be quite the inquisitive fellow.

Jack turned back to him. "There's, ah, there's no story."

"Oh, come on, man!" Peasley continued. "You're a bloody Helljumper! You must have some stories."

Jack took a moment to think about it. He did have a few interesting stories, actually; but no really incredible ones. He'd fought at Paris IV, after which he'd been adopted into the Helljumper corps.; he'd fought at Reach, where he lost the love of his life; and he'd fought at Earth. In truth, he'd been just outside New Mombasa when everything went to hell, and the Master Chief disappeared. Immediately after the battle of New Mombasa, Askar Squad had linked up, and gone on several missions to destroy pockets of Covenant resistance scattered across various parts of east Africa. Then, not soon after, the second wave of Covenant battleships arrived, and started to smash their way through to Earth's surface; after several major conflicts, the team had been sent on their most recent and morbid mission—the one to Ghost Town.

"…No, really," Jack persisted. "I don't have much to tell."

"…Well, mate," Peasely continued, undaunted, "Let me just say that, well, we might not be showing it, but we marines are glad to have you guys here."

"Mm-hmm," Kayla chimed in from the back of the group. Feeling rude, Jack turned to face them.

"Uh, thanks. Good to be here."

"Do you know how soon we can expect a Covenant attack?" Kayla asked bluntly.

Ah. So that was the reason.

"Truthfully, no," Jack said. "We're just as in the dark as you guys at this point."

The three walked in, entering at about the same spot that Askar Squad had first entered the base camp. Fortunately, however, no one shot at them this time.

"All troops, prep for combat. Repeat, all troops, Covenant sighted on radar to the north, prepare for combat immediately." The message from Lieutenant Cross was loud and sudden, and sounded in the earpieces of every soldier in the base. Marines dashed for positions, checked weapons, set up the machine guns—completing tasks that should have been completed some time before. "Askar Squad, report to my position immediately. Repeat, all troops, lock and load. Covenant forces are headed for the base."

Jack turned to his two companions.

"Does that answer your question?"

**---**

**Kronus, whose name is a fairly straightforward mythological reference, will be the story's primary antagonist. And you can expect a skirmish coming up that is considerably larger than the one in chapter three, though it will be dwarfed by some of the later battles.**

**As always, reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	5. It Followed Me Home

**Skirmish chapter. Hope you like it.**

--- 'It Followed Me Home'

Jack was one of the last ODSTs to arrive in the Ops. Center, and when he got there, he saw the others waiting. Initially he thought they had been waiting for him, but it soon became quite clear that Alem was absent was well. In the corner, Rodgers and Zhao stood talking, their helmets off. Rodgers' dark skin was fully noticeable even at the top of his head—his head was completely shaven. In contrast, Abe's hair was a mess—despite military regulations, it obviously hadn't been cut in a while. Nearby, the still-helmeted Henley was examining his shotgun closely.

"Atten-tion!" Alem hollered as he came in from the upper catwalk and made his way over to Cross. "Helmets on, boys!" As they made their way over, Rodgers and Zhao fastened on their helmets.

"Just getting some fresh air, boss-man," Zhao said. Rodgers simply nodded.

"Men," Cross spoke up, stopping their chatter, "Your little skirmish seems to have awoken the slumbering beast that is the Covenant force in this region. And it's coming here."

"Do we have any idea how many?" Alem asked.

"There sure as hell are more than that little scout party your team killed," Cross said determinedly, "But, with proper defensive command, we can handle it with minimal casualties. Hopefully.

"They're coming from the same direction that you boys arrived from a few days ago, so we're guessing that they'll just stumble into this main basin," She said, motioning to a small layout of the base on the table in front of her. He was pointing at the open area that was separated from the ops center by the large wall. "We'll let them enter the base and take up cover behind some of the rubble, and then rain down pain from this walkway here, as well as from our own positions of cover. Then, once their getting trenched in, we'll use the rockets on the trenches and blow them to hell. When their shock troops die there, we're guessing they'll attempt to retreat back into the forest, which is when our marksmen will take them out on the run."

"Straightforward plan," Alem said. "Where do we come in?"

"I need your men to reinforce the lines," Cross said. Also, we're guessing that some of the Covies will run for cover in this alleyway," She said, motioning to the short and narrow area just below one of the metal catwalks branching off of the interior building. "If we don't hold them there, they could spread up here into the Atrium and maybe even the center-structure. We'll need a group of soldiers to hold them here, and make sure none of them get into the pipes. Can your men handle that?"

"No doubt about it, ma'am."

"Good. Now get to the front lines, double-time." The team scrambled back towards the open basin that would be the site of the major conflict…all except two.

Hutson turned to Rodgers, and asked, "Where do you want to set up?"

Under his helmet, Rodgers smiled at his spotter. "Central structure, top level, at the top of the steps leading into the main room. Its distanced away from the main fighting, and its the best vantage point."

"Nice. Let's move out." They hustled towards the top of the central structure, and Hutson asked, "You've had this planned out since we got here, didn't you?"

He could almost see Rodgers grinning through the sniper's helmet.

---

Brute Captain Carinus stood tall as his horde of troops scrambled through the undergrowth of the forest in the general direction of the human encampment.

Truth be told, the gold-armored monstrosity had his doubts about the mission. He knew little about his enemy—numbers, fortification. But he was prepared to meet them full force. Secondly, however, he was suspicious of Chieftain Kronus—perhaps he was sending him to his death for fear of Carinus becoming his successor as ruler of the pack? If it was true, it seemed odd; the Chieftain had supplied him with a generous amount of troops for the mission. Thirdly, visibility would not be at its best for his troops—the sun was setting, and it would soon be dark.

But he had his battle plan. And before nightfall, he would make sure that these humans knew and feared the name of Carinus.

Pulling the Fuel Rod off of his back, Carinus roared and pointed in the direction of the coming assault.

---

Jack charged forwards, watching marines all around him do the same. He noted that a good deal of wooden planks and metal bars had been set up as makeshift barricades for the coming assault.

He took up a position in the third row of barricades from the forest—a large, concrete barrier was his cover, and on the ledge just above and behind him was a machine gun team, ready and awaiting action. It was as good a spot as any—the other seven ODSTs spread out through the human troops and hunkered down in a similar fashion.

He saw two marines on his left side, and a familiar face on his right. Peasley grinned at him, and Jack nodded in response. Jack examined his assault rifle, and Peasley his SMG.

Both men's attentions were suddenly grabbed when an explosion sounded in the distance, accompanied by the high-pitched screams of several grunts. The Covenant must have found the trip-mine that Jack had placed.

A few seconds later, and they could hear the Covenant coming—the thundering of many feet approached. As he watched the tree-line, he guessed that the enemy was mere seconds from breaking cover.

"Engage!" Alem roared from his vantage point. The UNSC soldiers opened fire, shooting into the forest at enemies they couldn't see. The response was blind firing in kind, as well as a Covenant battle cry that sounded from the throats of multiple species.

The first of the enemy appeared—cannon fodder. It was almost all grunts and jackals, with a couple of brute minors as well. Some paused to fire while some continued their charge towards the cover, but none made it into the basin—their bodies, full of holes, slumped and crumpled down the ascent, which quickly grew slippery with alien blood.

Jack fired at a brute minor until his clip ran dry, by which time the brute had already been felled. He ducked behind cover, and not a moment to soon—a spiker's ammunition slammed into the other side of his cover as he reloaded, switching to a fresh clip. He pulled out one of his grenades and armed it, then hurling it with the force required to get it to the forest's edge. Several pained screams mixed with the sound if its detonation.

There was perhaps a second of respite before the second wave, primarily composed of shield jackals, brutes, and needler-bearing grunts—charged. Jack poked his head out and was almost killed by a passing blob of plasma, which hit the wall behind him. The machine gun teams went to work, firing countless bullets into the enemy. A brute minor fell backwards, its chest impaled more than seventeen times by machine gun fire, as a blue-armored captain dashed past it towards cover. The captain leapt forwards, but Rodgers' sniper rifle sounded as the beast fell forward to the ground, a hole through its helmet. Jack put his assault rifle over the top of the cover and fired it blindly, hoping to catch a few aliens as they charged.

But the first stage of the battle was over; the second wave of Covenant had reached the front trenches.

Then the carbine jackals, still concealed in the trees, began to take their toll. They fired relentlessly, and the machine gunner behind Jack fell backwards, dead. The only things giving away the deadly jackals were the purple lights of their helmets.

"Aim for the lights!" Alem declared over the open frequency, firing at the faint violet hues in the forest. The soldiers complied, letting loose. The jackal sharpshooters, one by one, began to die.

"Yeah!" Zhao declared over the ODST private comm., his BR taking its toll on the enemy. "Suck it!"

From less than fifteen feet away, the UNSC and Covenant troops that were behind cover began to exchange fire. For the most part, it was blind firing, but it was still doing damage to either side. What the Covenant didn't know, however, was that they had stumbled into a trap—the first line of cover had been left open for them, and they eagerly seized it, not thinking of how it left them exposed to heavy ordnance.

But no rockets had been fired yet; the human soldiers in the second trench were in grave danger of being overrun as more troops poured out of the forest. As he killed an exposed grunt from his cover, Jack worriedly noted that both Fisk and Lansing were one row of barricades up, in that same second row—on the left side of the basin.

"We need suppressive fire up here!" Lansing shouted, poking out of cover, taking aim, and firing one of his dual M6G pistols. A grunt's rebreather exploded, and thick blue blood splattered onto its comrades.

Two brute captains leapt over their cover and charged towards the barricade to the right of that of Fisk and Lansing. The first fell back, killed by small-arms fire, but the second made its way to the opposite side of the cover being used by marines. Raising its mauler, it prepared to dive into their midst, but was killed by another expert shot from Rodgers.

Brutes were beginning to dole out orders to their subordinates, which was problematic. Three grunts lobbed plasma grenades over their cover, and the deadly hand-grenades landed amongst the men of the upper trench. The grenades exploded in unison, taking six marines with them. The cover, which was the one to the right of the one in use by Lansing and Fisk, was now vacant.

As marines prepared to respond in kind with their own grenades, a large number of Covies broke cover and moved towards the barricade, taking up shelter on its left side. They propped up against it and engaged the adjacent barricade—the marine to the right of Fisk, who was tragically the farthest on the edge, went down in a bloody, gurgling spray as spiker rounds lodged in his stomach. Fisk pressed himself against cover just in time to avoid the rest of the spikes. The brute captain firing at him laughed cruelly as it reloaded its weapon, its expression turning to terror when one of Fisk's grenades gently at the brute's feet.

The brute died, as did its grunt neighbor in the trench. The grunt's methane tank exploded, killing a nearby jackal. "Hell yeah!" Fisk hollered.

As Cross had predicted, a number of Covenant footsoldiers ducked into the alleyway behind the central building, attempting to avoid the harsh fighting. The brute minor among them grinned as he noted that, from here, they could spread into the rest of the human encampment.

With a bark, he ordered his three remaining subordinate troops forward. They passed by a small hole—a pipe—but just as they were moving past it, one of the grunts exploded, blue blood painting the ground. The second grunt yelped and turned to the opening in the pipe, only to be knocked over backwards by another burst of shotgun shells—six holes were visible in the creature's body armor. The jackal raised its shield, but a gray-armored human dashed out of the trench and brought the end of its weapon into the jackal's head, killing it instantly.

The brute minor raised its spiker, only to be pushed backwards by the effect of a shotgun burst. Another one took down its shields, rendering its blue armor useless. With a roar, it threw a fist at the human, who swerved to the side and slammed its weapon up just below the brute's jaw.

"Buh-bye," Henley said shortly, blowing the massive beast to kingdom come.

At about the same time, the two previously concealed rocketeers rose up, took aim, and fired; the results were tremendous. The first of the two Covenant trenches was completely blown apart, and body parts rained down from the sky like hail. The second makeshift barricade of the two, when the rocket struck, actually managed to retain its structural integrity, since the rocket actually impacted a brute's torso, and not the cover. The brute simply seemed to disappear as its grunt lackeys flew into the air, screaming.

---

Carinus frowned, barely concealed behind the trees, watching the onslaught. His forces had done a good deal of damage, but he had picked a tactic that, without any more troops, he could not win; the trench warfare was too costly with his current numbers. A better strategy would have been to spread his forces out and attack from another vantage point—but he had known the situation, and was now paying the price.

He still had one wave at his disposal—but, in all probability, this battle was already over. There were simply too many humans for his troops to handle. Retreat was not an option; the Chieftain had ordered for him to come back with news of victory, or not to come back at all.

Carinus turned and roared to his last wave, motioning for them to proceed forward. Then again, this battle might not be a complete loss—he had yet to consider the damage that he himself could do.

---

A third wave charged in with various battle cries, and even more brutes were integrated into the jackal and grunt forces this time around. The aliens surged forward, weapons firing as the sun's last rays disappeared over the horizon. The marines rose us from their cover with weapons raised, but did not fire any bullets—they fell back down as nothing more than corpses.

Rodgers watched it from his position, and took another shot, this time hitting his target (a brute minor) in the neck—a tactical choice, since the shot retained its velocity and went through the torso of a shield jackal standing behind its leader. One shot, two kills.

Hutson noted the appearance of an especially big, gold armored brute before Rodgers did. The beast stood on the edge of the forest, elevated above the carnage, and gave a roar. "Rodgers! Fuel rod!" He warned.

But the brute already had its chance. It fired its massive fuel rod twice, and the shots flew over Lansing and Fisk's barricade, and towards the one containing Jack. Two massive, green explosions consumed the far left side of the fortification—two marines went soaring into the air, chunks of seared flesh flying haphazardly off the now vaporized pair. Behind the trench, Jack and a single remaining marine crouched, about to die.

In this case, distraction was better than accuracy—Rodgers was not going to let one of Askar Squad die. In desperation, he swung his scope to the right, sweeping it across the battlefield rapidly and firing when the timing seemed right.

He caught the large brute on its left shoulder—a deadly hook. It spun about, firing three more shots one-handed—at the position where Rodgers and Hutson were situated.

But the shots had a distance to go, and—despite Hutson's yell of warning—Rodgers was not moving until that brute was dead. He relocated his scope.

"Boom," The sniper said quietly, and immediately pulled the trigger. Then, things happened very quickly.

With a scream of "Get down!" Hutson tackled Rodgers to the side, and both hit the floor with a violent thud. But the bullet was already out of the sniper rifle's long barrel—in what seemed like lightspeed, it slammed into the very front of the brute's golden helmet—its already weakened shields proved useless. The sniper round cleanly exited the far side of the monster's elongated face, and it remained standing for another second before crumpling over in a pool of its own brain matter.

The beast's last three shots ripped through the air towards the top level of the main building. The reason that Hutson carried a shotgun was to protect Rodgers from any potential threats that were too close for comfort—but the weapon would not stop massive, explosive projectiles. As he pushed himself and Rodgers out of the way, the first of the three shots impacted the ground about ten feet below the two, killing three marines. The second threw off sparks as it continued through the air, slamming into the ceiling above the two, sending down a shower of concrete rubble on them, burying them. The third hit the wall a few feet away, transforming it into more debris.

"Rodgers! Hutson!" Alem yelled over the comm., watching them disappear into the rubble. "Shit!"

The battle seemed to grow farther and father away to Jack's senses as he looked up in the direction of his saviors. Were it not for them, the brute would have lit him and Peasley up for sure—but had their rescue been a sacrifice?

And then, abruptly, a figure rose from the rubble, dusting itself off. "…Sorry," Rodgers apologized as Hutson got up with a few coughs. "I owe you one, Andrew."

"And I owe you guys one," Jack said into his comm. while letting out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, fellas."

"Enemy remainder in full retreat!" Zhao hollered into his mike, spraying the now retreating covies with battle rifle fire.

"That's right, bitches!" Fisk cackled, rising up from his too-close-for-comfort position and letting loose with his assault rifle. "Run! Too bad it won't help!"

Five grunts, a jackal, and a brute made it out of cover and towards the treeline. One grunt fell after taking two steps, half of its head missing; a second exploded as its methane tank ruptured, taking out two more and the jackal, which fell forwards as its blood mixed with that of other deceased fighters. The remaining grunts slumped over, slaughtered by machine gun fire, and the brute (which had taken a shot to the leg) weakly attempt to hobble the rest of the way, but was cut down almost instantly by the chorus of UNSC weaponry.

With the battle over, the UNSC troops let loose in a jubilant cheer. For the time being, they had the upper hand; but the Covenant was angry.

And soon, it would strike again.

**Well, I hope that was to your liking. Carinus was a sort of 'Threshold Guardian', I guess.  
**

**Remember, every review not only speeds up update time via giving inspiration, but can also be very useful for improving the story. Kthx.**

**[This chapter was re-uploaded after being edited for spelling errors. Any remaining errors were things I missed, and if they bother you please tell me. All input is appreciated.]  
**


	6. Uncomfortable Silence

**[In reference to the rights to/of the Halo franchise, I do not own anything other than the characters and plot of this fan-fiction].**

…**Sorry. I had a ton of stuff to do…theatre, essayin', etc…plus, Gears 2 came out, so I've been a bit…distracted. Nevertheless, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

--- 'Uncomfortable Silence'

Jack once again found himself doing nothing. It seemed that, when Lieutenant Cross didn't have any chores for Askar Squad, and when the base itself wasn't under attack, he didn't really have anything to do. So he sat, and thought.

He was sitting on the top level of a shattered brick building attached to the garage/HQ, and, for the first time, the reality of the mission was starting to get to him.

The reality being that, in all probability, every last person in the base, including Askar Squad, was going to die.

Like most things in life, impending doom seemed to make itself clear to people after they could do anything about it. When Askar Squad had been given their new objective and mission, none of them had really said anything. They had just sat there, either absorbing the morbid information and ignoring it or simply accepting it grimly.

Jack didn't know, though, if he really was ready to die. It sounded stupid, but, somehow he had imagined doing and being more in his life than a soldier.

He'd done a good deal of things in his lifetime. He'd grown to recognize all human emotions—joy, sadness, anger, loss, love. He had loved, yes, but he did not have any sort of family line. No wife, no kids. He always imagined, or maybe hoped, he would one day experience fatherhood—though, now that his life truly was in danger, he had no time to experience it. He could, of course, attempt to desert, but he would never be able to forgive himself for such a thing.

Plus—

"Hey, man." Jack turned and saw Hutson, helmet held under one hand, standing behind him.

"Hey." Jack responded.

Hutson walked over and sat down next to him, dangling his legs over the edge of the building. "You're pretty good at isolating yourself, you know. I've been looking for you for a while."

"Why?"

"Hell, I need someone to talk to. Alem's going over tactics with the el-tee, Zhao, Rodgers and Fisk are looking through weapons, and the rest of the team is trying to keep Henley from hitting on too many marines at once."

Jack smiled under his helmet. "Sounds like a good time."

"Yeah, well, I need some time away from 'em anyway." Hutson turned and looked at Jack. "What are you thinking about?"

"What?" Jack said. "…Nothing."

"Come on, man. You're sitting up here, on a rooftop, staring out at the sunset, all alone in the quiet. And don't give me any bullshit about enjoying the view."

Jack smiled wider. "Yeah, well…" His smile disappeared as he turned to Hutson. "I just…you know…I guess the mission just hit me." Hutson nodded. "I've been thinking about it. You know. Dieing."

"Afraid?"

"Yeah. Well, I feel more sad than I do scared. I mean, there's a lot of stuff I haven't done yet."

"Same."

"How do you feel about it?" Jack asked curiously.

"I'm not letting it concern me that much."

"_Death?_" Jack asked incredulously, chuckling a bit. "Even I didn't think you were _that_ relaxed, man."

Hutson grinned. "Well, I mean, it sounds like it—the concept, I mean—just hit you. And it hasn't really hit me yet." He paused "I hope it never does." He could almost see confusion etched into Jack's features through the ODST's helmet, so he continued. "I mean, if it does, it'll probably distract me—or anybody—from combat, if they dwelled on it. And I don't want that to happen. I guess, in a way, I completely content to die, since this is a cause worth fighting for."

Jack sighed. "Yeah…"

"I mean, every hour we stay standing here is an hour more that the Covenant is drawn away from Rat's Nest and the other bases. Bases that have a chance, not like us. If our deaths give others an opportunity to survive, to beat the Covies back, to win this war…hell, I won't hesitate to stand and fight." He stood with a grunt. "C'mon, let's go. It'll be night soon, and I am _not _taking first watch."

---

Six hours later, it was the middle of the night, and an alarm was blaring.

Jack's eyes flew open, and he stared down at the flooring of the central structure's first level, the hard structure he was unfortunate enough to be sleeping upon. What was going on?

Something quite suddenly drowned out the roaring alarm—a different roar, of a completely different sort. Jack rolled over, facing up, and screamed as a massive brute seemed to materialize out of thin air in front of him, its active camouflage fading away. Jack raised his hands protectively over his face as the brute raised its weapon, a spike rifle.

It never fired the weapon. A shotgun broke the moment, and the brute, wearing the black one (red) eyed armor of a 'stalker', crumpled over on the ground to his left.

Jack looked up and saw a fellow ODST standing over him, fully suited, shotgun in hand. He recognized the man as Henley.

And, at that very moment, the world seemed to come alive about him—he could hear, other than the alarm, gunfire and screaming. A smell like that of burnt hair wafted through his ODST helmet.

They were under attack.

**Gasp!**


	7. Charlie Foxtrot

**Heh, lucky number seven, right? Battle chapter here, though I don't feel as confident about the actual in-battle description as I usually do...but, here you go. It might be good to read the last paragraph-or-so of the last chapter if you don't remember it, since this picks up right were the last one left off. Well, here you go!  
**

--- 'Charlie Foxtrot'

"The hell's going on!?" Jack demanded as he leapt to his feet.

"Brutes with active-camo," Henley said. "Must have slipped past our defenses and launched a coordinated attack. They're all over the camp."

"Orders?" Jack asked, picking up his Assault Rifle and loading in a clip.

"Dunno, the brutes are jamming us. Radio doesn't work for _shit_." The big man hefted up his shotgun and continued, "I vote we head for the HQ, and try and make a defense there."

Jack nodded, readying himself and trying to ignore the screams in the distance. "Let's go."

The two poked their heads out of the door and spotted a bloody brawl. Marine corpses were common in the area, and there were few brute bodies to be seen in the carnage. "Let's make for cover there," He said, pointing toward a small, columned area underneath a hill of earth across the small road. A tree rose up directly above the hill.

Two brutes were taking cover in it, each holding a spiker. "Ah, shit."

"What?"

"I think one of the guys was sleeping down there."

Jack gulped; he didn't want to think about a possible loss in Askar Squad, so he pushed it to the back of his mind. "Let's clear 'em out, then."

The two men broke out of the doorway—they could have easily cleared out the two brutes with a grenade, but in case of survivors in the crevice they were afraid of firing. As one of the brutes took aim with its spiker, Jack raised his gun and opened fire.

The bullets pinged off of the Stalker's armor, but it began to vent cyan steam. The brute growled and ducked back, only to appear around the corner holding the mutilated corpse of a very dead marine. He held it in front of his body like a shield and fired his spiker over the dead man's shoulder.

Jack hustled for cover when the brute was suddenly cut down by BR fire from another angle. Thanking his lucky stars, Jack—with Henley right behind him, moved into the opening.

The second brute, which had been lying in wait for the two, rose up and roared in their faces, drowning out the surrounding noises of battle. Before it could attack, Henley shoved the barrel of his shotgun into its face and fired, and it fell backwards, dead.

At that very same moment, a harsh crackling noise broke into both men's helmets. It then stopped, and was replaced by Fisk's voice. "Got it, Sarge. Its working."

"Copy that," Alem's voice cut in faintly. "Askar Squad, report in now."

"Henley here."

"Jack, here."

"This is Hutson. I'm fine."

"Fisk is ready to kick some ass. But you already knew tha—"

"This is Rodgers."

…There was a pause.

"Zhao and Lansing are not reporting in. If anyone spots them, report it. Everybody try and make your way to the HQ; the remaining brutes are rallying there for a defense. They seemed to have wiped out the tech staff."

"Shit, we're on it."

"Will do, Sergeant." Rodger's voice was drowned out by the sound of his sniper rifle a second later.

Jack turned, and then saw something he had not been hoping to see. On the ground below him, lying in a pool of blood, was a figure wearing ODST armor. Several spikes were visible in its torso, and the soldier had obviously been killed in a gruesome fashion. Still clenched in a death grip were two M6G magnum pistols.

"Oh, no…" Jack said quietly.

"Sarge, we, ah…We found Lansing."

"Yes, Henley?"

"He's…he's dead, Sarge."

There was a long pause. "…Acknowledged. I'm…sorry to hear that. There will be time to mourn, men, but focus on the situation at hand."

Jack couldn't pull his eyes off of the corpse. "Lansing," Henley said slowly. "Man."

"Yeah," Jack said quietly. He didn't move a muscle until Henley's heavy hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him out of his stupor.

"C'mon, Jack. There wasn't anything we could do." He paused. "The HQ's just around the corner.

Jack nodded wordlessly as Henley walked by, heading around the corner with his shotgun raised. Jack checked his ammo and loaded in a fresh clip before following after Henley.

The two thundered around the corner and up the ramp leading into the garage, and saw a gruesome sight. Techs were lying everywhere in what looked like lakes of blood, and the tables and the technology that had been on them were toppled, broken, smashed and shattered. In the very center of the room were three Stalker brutes, firing their weapons. The one on the left held two maulers, one in each hand, and was firing at the figure of a marine hiding behind a toppled table. The one on the right fired its spiker at a charging marine, and the human tumbled over in a grizzly spray. The one in the center, a larger beast will a full coat of silvery fur, held a spiker in its right hand and a mauler in its left, and was roaring to its two subordinates. The trio had yet to see the two Helljumpers, who dived behind a crate in the corner of the room.

"Sarge, Jack and Henley here, in the HQ," Jack said into his comm. grimly. "We've got three bravo-kilos here, mowing down marines. The techs are dead." However, the line was static. Radio seemed to be down…again. He turned to Henley. "What do we do now?"

Henley paused in thought for a second, and then said, "You know that expression, 'fools rush in'?"

"Yeah, I—" and with that, Henley was gone, charging around the corner "Henley!" Jack yelled after him, poking out of cover and watching as the fellow ODST charged.

He would have died instantly were it not for three things. Just as the brute on the right turned to shoot at him, it fell back, a hole in its head from sniper fire. The middle brute was distracted with a marine that was running for cover on the other side of the room, and fired its mauler at it.

The third brute, seeing the ODST charge, roared and ran forwards, firing its maulers. However, Henley jumped forward and rolled, popping up right in front of the startled brute. "Hello."

The brute's head exploded just as the third and final brute whirled around, its sickle-like mauler bayonet slicing into Henley's torso. The ODST fell back as blood splurted out of the wound, hitting the ground heavily.

"HENLEY!" Jack screamed in panic, quickly turning to fire on the last brute. However, it ran for the exit around the corner, and its shields managed to hold until it made it around the corner. Determined to kill it, Jack charged after it, but it, along with five other brute stalkers, leapt into the foliage and were gone. "You fucking bastard!" Jack yelled after it, unloading the rest of his clip into the forest.

Then, quite suddenly, the battle was over. The firing stopped; the brutes had suffered harsh casualties after inflicting even harsher ones, and had then retreated.

Henley managed to gurgle out, "Could use some help here," Before going unconscious. Jack was instantly at his side.

"Medic! I need a medic over here!" A marine dashed out of the nearby stairwell and readied his bio-foam as the radio came back online.

"This is Alem. Situation report, Askar Squad. Now!" He demanded.

"Man, we just got ambushed pretty damn bad, huh?" Hutson muttered into the comm. "We lost a lot of men, Sarge. But I'm here with Rodgers, and we're okay."

"Sir! I'm fine, but Henley's wounded pretty bad!" Jack yelled into his comm.

"He'll be fine," the marine medic said. "Don't worry."

"Medic says he'll be fine, though."

"…Copy that. Fisk and I are okay. Anybody seen Zhao?"

"Negative, sir."

"Negative."

"…Copy that. Establish a defensive perimeter. The brutes might come back any second. I'll worry about rallying the survivors. Get to it, Askar Squad!" Jack did not want to leave his comrade's side, but he knew what he had to do. "…Oh, and Hutson? Dunne?"

"Sir?"

"…You two are on body count."

---

**First confirmed KIA in the squad...**

**PLEASE OH PLEASE tell me what you think--I could really go for some feedback! Thanks for reading!  
**


	8. This Town Ain't Big Enough

**[static]…Hello? …Can anyone hear me? Anybody out [static]? Is anyone even reading this? [static]**

--- 'This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us'

Jack glumly looked out over the landscape from the central building's upper catwalk, watching the sun rise. It was obscured behind a large tree; one of the tree's lower branches had a single dog tag slung over it, glinting in the morning light. It swayed a bit in the morning breeze.

It read 'Lansing'.

It was a bit ironic, Jack supposed. Their medic, the one responsible for keeping the injured alive, had been the one to die. Despite the fact that Lansing had been dead long before his body was found, long before anything could have been done, Jack still felt responsibility, as did the rest of Askar Squad.

Well, except for Zhao.

Abe Zhao, one of the team's original members, along with Hutson, Alem, and Henley, had been missing since the fight. His armor and body hadn't been found in the recovered bodies, which meant he had either deserted or been captured. It didn't seem in the man's character to flee, though if he had, Jack wouldn't have blamed him.

They really were going to die here.

The missing marine soldiers were not noticed—either that, or they were simply not brought up. Slowly, since the events of last night, marines had began to disappear. They weren't being kidnapped or taken, no—they were leaving by their own will, creeping into the forest in an attempt to escape the deathtrap that was Ghost Town. Numbers had been dwindling significantly—Jack wasn't sure how many marines were left, and those that were weren't confident about their likelihood to survive—they were either resigned to their fate or clinging to the hope that staying would offer some extra degree of personal security.

The events of the Covenant's night raid had assured the fears of the marines. There would be no victory in this conflict. There would be no pelican to fly in and rescue them all. The Covenant would come, the marines would fight, and the marines would die. And, though the marines didn't know that, it was all part of the plan. Askar Squad had been ordered not to tell the marines about their impending doom, but whether or not they'd told them really wouldn't matter. They all knew now, anyway.

He looked beyond the tree, into the underbrush and concealing trees. He _could _do it, if he wanted to. Run into the forest and desert, and keep running until his legs collapsed beneath him. Maybe he would live, maybe not. Chances were, however, that he had a better chance out there than he did here.

Jack let out a loud, long sigh.

"Marines," Alem's voice crackled over the comm. systems of every soldier in the base, "This is Gunnery Sergeant Alem of Askar Squad. I have now taken full command of Ghost Town, so listen up.

"The Lieutenant is dead. We lost her in the fighting last night. As you may well know, our tech is busted, and we've lost radio contact with the rest of the UNSC. We're outnumbered. The odds are stacked against us."

What was this, a pep-talk? It was…interestingly worded.

"But, as I'm sure you all know as well, things have been stacked against humanity since the start of this war, before some of us were even born." Alem paused. "Things look grim, but we must not give up hope. After all, humanity's best asset is its ability to persevere.

"In this war, we are not fighting for the kind of things that humanity's fought for in the past. Wealth, territory, power—no. We're fighting for survival. This is a war worth fighting.

"I know some of you have lost hope. Some of you are thinking of leaving. If you wish to leave, I will not stop you, but I want you to listen to me. I know things look grim here, but we cannot give up. We can't stop fighting. For the sake of humanity, for the sake of our loved ones, for the sake of _everything _we still have and hold dear, we need to fight. So I implore you to stand alongside me and my squad in the coming conflict. Alem out."

Jack nodded slowly. It wasn't a great speech—it wasn't something out of an old war movie, no, none of that. But it got the job done, and its strength was its truth. They were fighting for the greater good—maybe they would all die, but they were dying for a purpose. And a purpose that was worth their lives.

Jack checked his ammunition.

---

Kronus sat in a gravity throne, arms crossed, as a smaller being was thrown down to the ground it front of him. It was a human, and it was beaten and bloodied significantly. The Brute Chieftain turned to the silver-haired brute that had dragged the human in—it wore the armor of the brute stealth units, known as 'Watchers' or 'Seekers' to the Covenant, and 'Stalkers' to the humans, and the black armor bore quite a few scratches and bulletmarks, no doubt from the night raid the brute had been charged with commanding.

"I take it you have a good reason for not having killed this creature yet, Hadius," Kronus spoke to the older brute.

"Yes, Chieftain." His comrade responded. "I thought you might want to question it on matters concerning its fortress, and its brethren." The stealth specialist's voice was raspy and coarse, even for a Jiralhanae.

"Why did you not simply level the place during your attack?" Kronus asked dangerously.

"It seems we underestimated the human presence, Chieftain. We did significant damage to their fortifications and killed many, but I did not have the firepower to prolong an assault."

"I see," Kronus had said, satisfied. Hadius was a crafty fellow, and Kronus did not trust him, but the two had been packmates for a long time, and Kronus knew that his subordinate was reliable. He had sent the brute in to take the humans by surprise and destroy their encampment with minimal casualties, but apparently it wasn't going to be that easy. "Its armor," He stated, demanding that the stealth warrior elaborate on the subject. Kronus had seen humans wearing the material before, but he wasn't sure exactly what it meant. The human, who was fully armored with the exception of its head was coughing loudly. It, he noted, had a messy, unkempt blob of hair on its head.

"They are some sort of special-operations force, Chieftain. It seems that their kind are leading the humans at their base camp…and they are tougher to kill than the standard ones that wear green."

The marine coughed something that sounded, through the brute translators—'bastards'. Kronus frowned, some of his teeth glinting, and he rose from his throne. Hadius, knowing what was about to happen, moved back as the Chieftain strode up to the human being.

"What is you name, human?" He asked quietly.

"Fuck you," The human replied.

"Perhaps you did not understand my question, human," Kronus snarled. He did not know exactly what the human had meant, but it was obvious that it was an insult. He hefted the small being up with one hand and began to squeeze, threatening to smash the human's innards inside its armor.

Just before the human would have died, Kronus stopped, and the smaller sentient gave a few hacking coughs. "What is your name?" Kronus inquired again.

"N…" The human looked as if it was about to smile, but then stopped, and looked quite serious for a moment—Kronus was not sure if he could read human expressions, but it seemed that way.

"If you do not answer again, human, I will make your death long and painful. Tell me your name."

The human coughed out a word—'Nobdy'. An odd name, to say the least. But the humans were peculiar, filthy, heretical beasts.

"Your armor," Kronus continued, "What does it mean?"

The human smiled again. "Means we're…the best of the—best. We're the elite."

Kronus' expression suddenly changed, and he smiled wryly. "By human standards." Hadius smiled, baring his long teeth. "Your kind are weak, human. Tell me, why do they think they can put up any sort of resistance against the might of the most holy Covenant?"

The human glanced over at Hadius and responded, "Well, doesn't look like we're doing so bad. After all, your little lackey over there couldn't deliver, now could he?" Hadius growled, but Kronus held up a hand to stop his subordinate.

Then, quite suddenly, Kronus dropped the human warrior, who hit the ground with a thud. "Human, I have a task for you to complete. I am setting you free." Hadius frowned, and looked ready to object, when Kronus continued, "Return to your encampment and tell your brethren that I, Chieftain Kronus, am about to descend upon them; tell them that they will receive no mercy, so if they wish to pray to their little, heathen deities, they should do so now. It will do their kind nothing—you will all be consumed by the wrath of the Covenant. Now go." Kronus said, satisfied.

He expected the human to cower, to rise up and flee as fast as it could back to its camp, but it did not. It simply lay there on the ground with a smile on its face. "…Nah, don't like the sound of that," It said amicably. "How 'bout you go eat shit and die, instead?"

"You have chosen your fate, human. So be it," Kronus said, drawing his mighty gravity hammer and raising its bladed side high into the air above the human's head. If the human no longer valued its own life, than Kronus certainly had no need for it to continue desecrating his war camp with its presence.

Before he brought the hammer down, the human managed to get in the last word: "See this armor? Remember it. The man that sends you to hell will be wearing a suit just like it."

---

**Happy Thanksgiving.**


	9. Know Your Role

**Hey guys! …New chapter here. Short, but very important, with a dramatic ending that I don't want to ruin by having author's notes at the end, so I'll stickin' em all up here.**

**It has recently been brought to my attention that a 'brute ultra', a brute that wears the same type of armor as the brute minors, is actually of a higher rank (supposedly) that a brute captain. For the sake of this story, that's just…well…not true. Brute captains, whether regulars, captain-majors, or captain-ultras, have and will outrank anything wearing the minor-ish armor. So, yeah…with that, roll chapter!**

---'Know Your Role'

Jack stood in a line, along with the rest of Askar Squad. They had gathered in the operations center—or what had formerly been the ops center. There were no longer busy engineers and computer terminals—none of it was left. The room was, other than the ODSTs, completely vacant.

Alem was pacing in front of the group, and had been for almost a minute now. There was clearly something on the man's mind, but he, along with the rest of the squad, hadn't said a word since they summoned him. Everyone was helmeted and armed.

"…Askar Squad," Alem finally stated. "I'm about to ask you something. I'm sure you heard something similar over the comm. earlier, but it wasn't a question, it was a statement. But now I want your honest opinion."

He paused.

"Soldiers, are you ready to die?"

There was a short period of silence, and then the squad responded in unison—as one.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Under his helmet, Alem smiled. "There's…there's something about this squad, men. Its…its like an electric current." He paced down the line, staring at each soldier's visor. "We're all connected. We're the best fighting force I've ever commanded. Hell, the best fighting force I've ever seen and fought alongside. You men are, without a doubt, the men I'd like to fight—and die—alongside.

"What I'm about to ask of you is not easy—hell, its even harder than the last question I asked. Because I'm not going to lie to you, men, at this point, death is a certainty.

But I know that, after fighting alongside you all, you'd like to take as many Covenant with you to the grave as is physically possible."

"Our last stand is going to be here, at Ghost Town, but I feel like the Covenant don't appreciate us yet. I feel like we need to make 'em mad. Am I right, marines?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Glad to hear it. I'll be staying here, but I need three of you to do something for me. You see…" He said, "We found a bomb, yesterday. A big one. Its no nuke, but it would be enough to take out Ghost Town's central structure.

"And I'm looking for some men who'd be willing to deliver it."

He looked at Askar Squad for volunteers. There was another short pause.

And then, simultaneously, every single man stepped forward.

---

When Jack was anxious, he moved his fingers—clenching and unclenching, drumming them across surfaces, tapping—and right now, there was a constant click as his gloved fingers lightly touched the side of his MA5C Assault Rifle. He stood alongside Alem and Rodgers in the same basin where the first skirmish had took place, waiting impatiently.

In the end, Askar Squad had ended up drawing straws to see who would go and who would stay. They had ended up with a team of Fisk, Hutson, and Henley going to deliver the bomb, and Alem, Rodgers, and Jack staying to defend the base. At first, Jack had opted to take Henley's place due to the man's injury, but it had spouted such a degree of infuriated cursing from the big man that Jack had eventually decided to let his team-mate go. Alem had not objected, not doubting Henley's ability, even when injured. The trio had some time earlier, and had decided to shut off all comm. chatter in case the enemy was closer than was thought. So far, none had been seen, but earlier in the day the sound of a distant explosion had carried over the canopy of the jungle, so Alem was guessing the trio had done their job.

The chances of them ever returning were low. Hell, the other half of Askar Squad might be standing there for days waiting for their team-mates. After all, it had been as suicide mission. Before Fisk, Hutson, and Henley left, they had exchanged awkward goodbyes with the rest of the squad, not knowing if it really would be the last time they ever saw their old comrades ever again.

But Askar Squad would not give up hope for their missing team-mates, even as the day waned on. They exchanged short remarks, muttered to one another briefly…but for the most part they were silent.

And so they waited.

…And waited.

…And waited even longer.

The sun would soon set—Rodgers, Alem, and Jack had been waiting all day. Soon, they would have to begin setting up a defensive perimeter for the night, in case the Covenant attempted another assault under the cover of night.

Jack thought he heard the sound of an arrival. Then again, he thought that he had heard the sound of a—

Henley burst through the undergrowth on the side of the base, attracting the attention of every nearby soldier. His stride was barely hindered by his injury, which he must have had a hard time ignoring. He stopped, panting, as Rodgers, Alem, and Jack ran up. Jack felt a pang of fear in his stomach upon seeing Henley—where were the others?

Almost as if answering his question, Fisk's figure broke out of the jungle at a slightly slower pace, hurrying towards Henley. Jack noted that the second ODST had multi-colored bloodstains on him, much like Henley, but there was also a bad burn mark on his back heel.

"Henley, you all right?" Alem asked quickly. The big Henley was bent over forwards, taking massive gulps of air. Fisk dashed up behind him.

"Fisk, your foot?" Rodgers asked.

Fisk looked down and waved it off. "Its…its nothing. Don't even feel it." Jack doubted that his comrade was telling the truth.

"Henley, is it done? The mission?" Alem asked quickly. Henley managed a nod, and a few mumbles as he stood up straight and gave a salute.

"..Y…yeah…We did it…" Henley coughed. "Armed, planted…the whole thing, Sarge. It's done."

Then Alem paused for a second, glancing over at Fisk, and looking back to the towering Henley. "…Where's Hutson?"

There was a long pause as Henley looked right at Alem wordlessly. Fisk, after a moment, looked away, staring down at his boots.

Then, Henley shook his head. _No._

There was another long silence.

**---**

**…**


	10. That Old, Familiar Feeling

**Hey, readers. Hope this chapter gives you a bit more insight into our protagonist…and antagonist.**

---'That Old, Familiar Feeling'

Jack was engrossed, once again, in his thoughts. He had quite a bit to think about. His life, his likely-impending death, and his final submission to such a mentality.

And this time there would be no words of advice. Hutson was gone.

When Henley had first shaken his head—a movement that broke the tragic news to the rest of Askar Squad—Jack had died a little inside, just as any marine did every time they lost a comrade. But there was more.

All UNSC personnel were forced to be exposed to death. Every man and woman in the corps had seen it, and—considering the amounts of deaths since the start of the war—countless soldiers had experienced it. Those who had to watch it were forced to adapt, to push emotions, to get used to it—to keep fighting and, if possible, recover the tags of the dead…and leave it at that.

But this was more than just a death, in Jack's eyes. When a member of the tightly-knit group of soldiers in Askar Squad died, it rocked the rest of the group—shook them to the core. But, ever since his introduction to the team, he and Hutson had been close friends. They didn't say much, but as fellow rookies in the squad (what seemed like an eternity ago), they had bonded fairly quickly. Hutson had quickly become trusted as a leader, and had surprisingly managed to work his way up to second in command, due to his versatility in battle. Jack had also been welcomed, and had gained the trust of his teammates quite quickly, though he had never been promoted or uplifted in Squad hierarchy—and he liked it that way; he didn't want to have to command anyone, because it meant he would be directly responsible if anything happened to them.

And yet, even though they had been in completely different places, Jack couldn't help but feel responsible for Hutson's death. All of Askar Squad felt the same way—there was a feeling of it in the air.

At first, Jack hadn't wanted any details. He didn't want to hear how and what happened—if Hutson was dead, he would leave it at that. No need to pursue it. …But slowly, he found himself wanting to know what had happened, and how his squadmate had died. It was a request back by a mix of compassionate and almost grotesquely-curious emotional baggage that Jack hadn't realized he carried until he learned of Hutson's death.

Jack still remembered Henley's explanation…

---

"We found this…camp. A big one. A couple ground vehicles, a few Banshees, a few Phantoms. We figured they were setting up big, here. There were plenty of troops, too, so we didn't know exactly where to try and set up the bomb."Eventually, we found a spot. It wasn't at the heart of the base, but it was as far in as we knew we'd be able to get without being detected. The aliens were all over the place—hard enough just to remain unseen while on the base's outskirts. Anyway, though, we started on in, with Hutson at point.

"We made surprisingly good progress, I gotta say—stayed away from most of the Covies, but we had to quietly kill a few here and there. We were almost to the planned bomb-planting point when the Covies must have found some bodies, and then everything hit the fan. The sons of bitches had found our position within a minute of that.

"We seemed surrounded, pinned down—we figured we were gonna die right there, so we set up the bomb behind some cover. But then Hutson decided we could at least try and make a break for it, so we did. And we got pretty far, since we managed to distract most of the troops with a few 'nades. Must have thought there was a second group of troops in their base, so they broke off.

"We were almost out when the bomb actually went off. It did a lot of damage—killed more Covies than we expected—we weren't exactly optimistic, what, with plasma burning down everything around us. The explosion really fucked the Covenant over—they must not have noticed the bomb, and figured that there was a group of marines, or a tank, or something, in the distance. About two thirds of 'em broke off and went running in the wrong direction…dumb bastards. We still had a shitload following us, though, so we kept up the retreat.. We were on the run then—that was when Fisk took a shot to the foot, but he was fine, so we kept going.

"Fisk and I were on our way out, but we didn't notice Hutson stop. He didn't say what he was doing or anything, he just…ran off. Into this small little Covenant structure. He must've found a Covie sniper rifle inside—you know, one of those beam rifles? He started cutting down enemies with it—he was trying to cover us as we got the hell out.

"We were on the edge of the forest when we realized he wasn't there. We turned around and saw him following us, and we figured we were in the clear. We were waiting for him to catch up, but he walked around…past this corner, see? He was exposed. He…He poked his head out, and a sniper got him. And, well, we tried going back, for…for him, to check, but we couldn't get to him before the Covenant got past where he was…

"We realized he was gone, and we wanted to tell you what we saw at the base, so we were forced to run. They tried to follow us, but they didn't get very far. And…well…now we're here."

---

They had known (and been reminded multiple times) that death was going to be a certainty on this mission. The suspected survivors were listed at zero percent. Even so, despite all odds, despite probability itself, no one in Askar Squad had been ready for it—for death.

And yet, deep down, the squad tightened the grip on their rifles. They were more alert, more focused—they were even more prepared to die. Grim certainty stared them in the face, and there was no ignoring it.

"_I guess, in a way, I'm completely content to die, since this is a cause worth fighting for._" Jack remembered what Hutson had said a few days earlier. "_Every hour we stay standing here is an hour more that the Covenant is drawn away from Crow's Nest and the other bases. Bases that have a chance, not like us. If our deaths give others an opportunity to survive, to beat the Covies back, to win this war…hell, I won't hesitate to stand and fight._"

Grim certainty was indeed looming over Askar Squad, but the Covenant had killed yet another one of the squad's members. And the rest of Askar Squad would make damn sure that such a thing would not go unpunished.

---

Kronus looked over him camp, trying to ignore the damage that had been done to it by a group of human attackers. He had not been expecting a counterattack—perhaps Hadius' midnight raid had infuriated the humans to such an extent that they had decided to attack? Regardless, he was outraged that such a small number of enemies had been able to do so much damage.

It had not been a contingent of humans that attacked—no, it had not even been a score. It had not even been a dozen. It had been three.

The very thought made Kronus snarl. _Three_! Three humans, with no outside assistance, had managed to slip into his fortress and do enough damage to take a good deal of his troops—and a few vehicles—out of commission. He had executed two of his captains who had been supposed to be guarding the base—he had done it in the presence of the other captains, almost immediately after the humans had retreated.

Ah, yes, their retreat. That angered Kronus almost as much as the attack itself. Of the three enemies who attacked, his supposedly unassailable horde had killed _one._

Over thirty losses, including two Ghosts and a Wraith tank, and they had killed _one._ For what was not the first time, Kronus considered having all of his Kig-Yar and Unggoy soldiers gutted for their seeming worthlessness. It was a shame that he did not have more Jiralhanae at his command.

True, the vehicles and soldiers lost could be easily replaced…but his pride, his reputation, had suffered. If it was known that a trio of humans did this much damage to his forces, unassisted, it was just all the more likely his subordinates would rise up in an attempt to overthrow him.

He could not _lie _to them—well, he could, but it would do little. The base already knew that there had been less than ten attackers, and whispers were migrating through the Covenant troops—had they been attacked by demons? What sort of monsters had the humans brought to fight them?

Kronus, of course, knew what the attackers had been. He had seen the dead body recovered…and he felt a thought at the back of his head, a bothersome one. The attackers had been of the same unit as the human that had been captured in the night raid—the one they had interrogated, anyhow—a few other prisoners were simply killed, and then cooked. The special-operation human that they had interrogated, however, had left him with a nagging thought. Its final words—its prophecy…it had said that he, Kronus, would die by the hand of one of the human's compatriots. Despite the fact that it was a human, a heathen, and an inferior being, the worm's remark infuriated Kronus because, for all of his might and confidence, he could not simply brush the words away. They stayed at the back of his mind, repeating, nagging at him like some infinitesimally small and meaningless insect…but they were still there. Nevertheless, the creature was a heretic, a weakling, and was now dead—Kronus would not let himself linger upon its statement. Some would have called his reaction to it fear, but Kronus knew better. He did not feel fear.

He had, since the human counterattack (if it could even be given such a title), doubled the number of sentries on his encampment's outskirts. The humans could easily strike again, from any angle, with any amount of numbers. Similarly, he did not trust his captains—they might choose to rise up and rebel against him in light of the humiliating human attack. He needed to eliminate the humans, and eliminate such rebellious thoughts from the minds of his troops. Two problems eradicated by a single action…

Kronus had assembled his forces, who now stood ready for a full assault of the human encampment known as 'Ghost Town'. It was time he leveled he human settlement anyway—it had proven troublesome, and now it would meet the full wrath of his forces. He did not intend to utilize his vehicles very much in this battle—some were wrecked, and others were in a state of repair. Besides, his ground troops could complete the task alone—overrunning the human encampment would be quick, easy, and bloody. And he would make sure that nothing remained of it.

For the humans had tarnished his reputation, and for that they would suffer.

---

**Big climax comin' up! R & R for great justice!**


	11. Judgment, Part 1

**Hey guys...I know its been a while. I guess you could consider this a holiday gift from me. ...A holiday gift composed of pure, unadulterated, violence. Please, enjoy.**

---'Judgment'

It was time. The full-fledged Covenant assault would soon be beginning, and the men and women of Ghost Town were preparing themselves as best they could.

Jack examined his chosen armament—in their desperation, the marines had began to scavenge. Jack still had his MA5C Assault Rifle and his M6G magnum, but he now had a single spike grenade in addition to his two fragmentation grenades. And, for the first time in his life, he had put his combat knife to use—etched into the side of his MA5C was the word 'Amelia'.

Next to him, Rodgers slapped a fresh clip into his sniper rifle. The man had refrained from taking anything from the bodies of the dead, both friend and foe—he still held solely a sniper rifle and a magnum. However, he looked despondent—after all, his old friend and spotter would not be there to assist him in this final conflict.

Fisk's eyes gleamed as he examined the glowing '32' on the top of his MA5C. He still had the plundered plasma pistol from what seemed like so long ago attached to his hip, and he now held two plasma grenades as well.

Henley, as always, stood proud, holding onto his awe-inspiring shotgun. Unlike Fisk, Henley had not cleaned his armor since the previous mission (Fisk didn't do a great job at cleaning, but an attempt was at least _visible_)—Henley's armor was painted vibrantly with alien blood of multiple colors. Attached to his hip was a SMG, and he was also armed with a pair of combat knives.

Finally, there was Alem—his armor gleamed in the light, and so did his weaponry, a Battle Rifle in hand and an Assault Rifle on his back. He didn't carry anything else—no grenades, no combat knives, nothing—but gripped in his left hand was Lansing's old dog tag.

Askar Squad—its remains—were assembled in the garage area, for what might be the last time. They looked around at each other in silence. Then, there was a hissing noise as the helmets came off.

Henley's well defined features looked almost comical next to Fisk's much more boyish, sprightly ones. Rodger's head was completely shaven, and he smiled weakly at the rest of his squad. Finally, there was Alem—of Arabic heritage, he had tanned skin with a brown-black beard.

It occurred to Jack, then, that he had never seen Alem without his helmet before. As Askar Squad's head looked around the assembled remains of his squad, a bittersweet smile played on his chapped lips.

"Gentlemen," He said, "Let me just say that it's been an honor." He paused briefly. "As a squad, we're more than I could have ever hoped and dreamed—the connection of brothers, and the strength of Spartans." Alem said. "We've all earned each other's respect—you've all sure as hell earned mine. Now let's get out there and give the Covenant a reason to regret messing with the corps. Lock and load!"

"Ooh-fuckin'-rah!" Fisk yelled at the top of his lungs. Henley gave his smaller comrade a friendly slap on the back that almost sent Fisk sprawling. Rodgers grinned at the duo's antics, and Jack couldn't help but smile as well.

With that, the helmets were back on, and the team went their separate ways, splitting up into different parts of the base. They knew their jobs, their objectives—they knew what they had to do, where they had to be.

As Jack was running towards the top of the central structure, he happened to pass by a familiar face. Not very far away, the marine he had met a few days earlier—Kayla—was hefting up an Assault Rifle.

Without realizing why, Jack felt his mouth move. "Hey." He hadn't even meant to say it.

Kayla turned around, and saw him, and must have recognized his voice. She smiled as much as someone distracted on the eve of battle can. "Hello."

"Seen Peasley?" Jack asked curiously. He found himself oddly curious about that, but he also felt that there was something he had to say.

"…No, not since the last attack." He said quietly. From the sound of her voice, Jack assumed she wasn't telling the whole story—it sounded like Peasley had deserted.

Then, Jack gulped, and spat it out quickly. It was random and pointless, but he needed to get it off of his chest. "You remind me of my girlfriend."

Kayla looked surprised, as she should have been. "Erm…" She mumbled awkwardly. "Good, or bad?"

Jack paused, and then said, "Good."

Kayla nodded at the masked man, and smiled. "Th-thank you."

And with that, Jack ran off, weapon at the ready.

---

Kronus stared into the distance, gazing at the mostly concealed human encampment. It was not as large as he had expected, but it was more tightly packed—better suited to defend. Still, he had brought his entire legion. They stood behind him and his assembled captains, weapons at the ready.

Kronus smiled, baring his fangs, at the miniscule figures of humans moving about in the distance. They stood no chance against his forces—with a wave of his hand, with a single word, Kronus could end all of their lives.

And he did not hesitate to do so.

He turned on his heel, striding up to the hulking forms of his seven captains. "Krahnus," He said to one of the larger ones in the group, who wore dark-blue armor. "You will lead the first part of the attack. Do not let me down."

The bulky, massive warrior that was Krahnus grinned darkly, hefting up his brute shot and turning to its division of the legion. Krahnus was strong as a Mgalekgolo, though he was not known for his intellect—regardless, he would be useful for beginning the assault with excessive force. "Destroy!" He roared to his soldiers, who clamored in obedience and charged forward, after their massive leader.

Kronus grinned. This would be easy.

---

Jack was behind a makeshift barricade at the foot of the central structure (only a short distance in front of Rodger's position in the first siege), looking over the basin that the first battle had been held in. It was likely that the Covenant would attack from the same direction as last time, but with more forces they would spread across the entirety of the north side of the base, engaging not only in the basin, but also over towards the Atrium…but both sides were well guarded.

Jack saw Rodgers to his left in the distance, close to the edge of the jungle, on the ledge above where Jack had been in the first siege. The machine gun team that had been there before was now gone, long dead, so Rodgers had adopted the position, which gave him a good angle on any enemies who attacked from the 'north-left'—the team's name for the basin-side.

On the causeway right in front of the massive wall were a large number of troops, and Alem stood at their center, looking as proud as ever. Fisk and Henley, meanwhile, had taken up residence on the other side of the base—one in the Atrium, one on the north-right side of the central structure.

As Jack looked over the battlefield, he couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence, even as the noises—shrieks, barks, and roars—of the Covenant became audible. The marines tensed up, and guns were raised.

"Let's _DO THIS_!"

Jack was surprised when he realized that he had shouted those words.

The Covenant smashed through the undergrowth and began firing, instantly encountering retaliating fire from their human enemies. As on the prior siege, the Covies charged down the slope on the edge of the forest, many dieing before they came to the slope's stop. That was when the first sniper shot was fired, killing a brute minor, who fell backwards into a now-panicking group of grunts.

Jack fired into the masses—hell, there were so many enemies, he barely had to aim. Two grunts went down fast, followed by a pair of jackals that had their shields pointed in Alem's direction, leaving them exposed.

The numbers proved overwhelming, however, when the first human barricade was over-run. Screams raised into the air as humans blindfired into their encroaching foes, who proved too many; Frag grenades were armed in desperation, and a good deal of the Covies were completely blown apart. Jack spotted one marine attempt to punch a brute minor, receiving a much more powerful punch in response from the big beast. It swung its left fist hard, impacting the side the marine's head. The soldier's neck turned a little too much from the blow—its neck had been broken by the force of the punch. It fell backward as the brute gave a roar of pride, before it was completely lobotomized by a sniper shot—courtesy of Rodgers, naturally.

That was when the first projectiles began to fly at Jack's position. He, along with two other marines, ducked down as the shots impacted the other side of their cover, or sailed by—tragically, a fourth soldier did not duck fast enough, and hit the dirt with no helmet, and half his head burned off to the bone.

"Shit!" Another marine screamed, seeing his neighbor die so brutally.

"Fisk! Henley!" The ODST comm. crackled to life, and Jack heard Alem's voice. "How are you doing over there?"

"Just peachy, sarge!" Fisk cackled into his mike, and Jack could hear him firing.

"Covies tried to push, but we're holdin' 'em back. C'mon, you bastards! Come get me!" Henley said over the hubbub. His roaring voice could almost be heard across the base _without_ the comm.

"Rodger that. Hold the line, Askar Squad!" Alem rose up and killed a grunt and a brute with BR fire. A nearby brute minor stopped, aimed, and fired its carbine at Alem, hitting the wall behind the sergeant, who disappeared back behind cover, and missed seeing the brute die from excessive amounts of surpressive fire, followed up by a snipe from Rodgers.

"Ha! How many does that make, Rodgers!?" Jack yelled into his comm. as he popped back up with his magnum, aimed, fired, and killed a jackal holding a carbine. At the back of his mind, Jack could hear his conscience muttering, _you've gone insane_.

"I don't keep count anymore," Rodgers replied, quite calm, as he slapped a new clip into the sniper rifle. Despite his calm demeanor, however, a tiny hint of enjoyment in his voice.

"Focus, Askars! We're far from out of the woods yet!" Alem cut into their conversation.

_Never will be_, Jack thought, as he poked out from the side of cover and mowed down an exposed and charging grunt with his Assault Rifle.

Then, Fisk's voice returned, but it was now riddled with panic. "Sarge—oh shit! Bad news!"

"Out with it, Fisk!" Alem demanded as more Covenant soldiers began to pour into the basin.

"Shit! They're making another push, Sarge! Ah, shit! Henley's about to be over-run—oh, shit—"

"Fisk! Hang in there, help is on the way!" Alem quickly thought of who was closest to Fisk's position, and then continued. "Dunne! Get in there and assist the far side!"

"Got it, Sarge." Jack had already hefted himself up and over the cover, and charged towards the nearby door into the central structure. The wall behind him, as well as a nearby marine, became riddled with bullets—but Jack remained unhit.

He dashed into the end of the next hallway, and spotted Fisk, who looked up. He was crouched behind a wall, two human corpses at the floor next to him. Jack could barely hear him over the sounds of battle. "Oh, Jack! Thank _Jesus_! These marines—they're dead, all dead! My comm. is outta commission, too!"

"Where's Henley!?" Jack demanded.

Fisk pointed out the doorway on his right side—it lead out to a wooden walkway that connected to the Atrium's top floor. "Atrium, behind one of the columns in the debris!" Indeed, Jack spotted him—the big Englishman was pressed up against the side of a large column on the bottom floor (in truth, it had no floor; Henley was standing on dirt) of the Atrium, on its inner corner—the wall section that had previously kept the column surrounded had been blown out, and Henley was poking his head around cover and firing with his shotgun. "He'll get overrun in a matter of seconds unless we can get to him, and my comm. is out!"

Jack was instantly yelling into his own. "Henley, fall back into the Atrium's top level, right now!"

Henley replied, not moving from his position. "Negative on that, I'm pinned in cover here."

"Hang on, then!" Jack turned to Fisk. "We gotta run across to the Atrium!"

"No way, Jack! S'too hot to cross!" Reinforcing Fisk's statement, a volley of plasma and spikes whizzed by the wooden walkway—there was no way they could cross.

"Then let's pick 'em off from here!" Jack dashed over to the wall corner and poked around the left entrance, firing his Assault Rifle at a brute. Its shields flickered, and it turned around with a roar—Jack poked his head back behind cover just before it was taken off by projectiles.

Fisk whipped out his plasma pistol and depressed the trigger, watching as a big, green blob of plasma grew at its tip—the weapon began to buck and shudder uncontrollably in his hands. He poked around the corner and let go of the trigger, watching the overcharged plasma fly across the battlefield and make impact with the shields of a brute, rendering the brute's armor worthless as the shield batteries in it died out (simultaneously, the plasma pistol overheated and let off plasmatic steam, causing Fisk to drop the burning-hot weapon with a pained, "Ah! Shit!). Henley saw the brute's shielding fail, and poked his gun around the corner, killing the weakened and distracted brute with a single shotgun round.

The brute led troops turned their focus to Fisk and Jack's position, taking the heat off of Henley. Henley, for once, realized the tactically-superior importance of 'the better side of valor' and retreated back up into the second level of the Atrium, whipping out his SMG and pumping a grunt full of rounds. The grunt had armed a plasma grenade to throw in the direction of the other two Helljumpers, and the 'nade fell to the ground, killing three more methane-breathers.

"Now! Let's cross!" Fisk yelled to Jack, and the two charged out onto the wooden walkway, and sprinted for the Atrium. Shots whizzed by, and Jack heard a pained yell from Fisk behind him as he dived into the Atrium, past Henley. He got up and saw Fisk on the walkway. For a second, he feared his teammate was dead, but then heard another groan.

Fisk had taken two plasma hits, one to his left leg, and one to his left flank. There was a single pink needle stuck in his heel. "Damn, not again!" He groaned.

Jack grabbed Fisk and pulled the injured trooper into the Atrium, out of the fire of the brutes. "Good to see ya," Henley muttered to the two, reloading his shotgun,

"Alem! Jack here." Jack reported, propping the groaning Fisk up against the wall. "I'm here with Henley and Fisk in the Atrium, but Fisk took a few hits."

"Can you still fight, soldier?" Henley asked Fisk.

"Y-yeah, help me up, willya?" The wounded man said with gritted teeth, Henley grunted as he pulled the smaller, more wiry ODST to his feet. "Urgh! Lucky shot! …Well, shots." He corrected. "Almost thought they had me for a sec."

"The marines are getting butchered over here, Sarge," Henley said into his comm.. "They can't take much more of this shit."

There was a roar in the distance, and Jack looked out of a hole in the wall and spotted another group of Covies break out of the forest and charge, being met by a bullet hose from the few-remaining marine defenders. Jack noted, however, that the brute leading this group—a dark-blue armored captain—was enormous, and began firing with its brute shot, quickly obliterating two marines. "They're making another push!" He said. "Somebody take out the big one with the brute shot!"

The 'big one' in question did not stop at the first line of barricades, instead charging toward the second line, held by a small number of marines. The Covies vaulted over the barricades and were suddenly among the humans, slaughtering them. Jack saw the big one cut one in half with its brute shot's bayonet before kicking an injured one over onto its back and, attaching its brute shot to the back of its power-armor, deliver three swift, furious punches to the marine's face, reducing it to a bloody pulp.

As the remaining humans backpedaled as fast as they could, some panicking and breaking cover completely, Jack let loose with his MA5C, but cursed when it ran dry. Not wasting time to reload, he dropped it, whipped out his magnum, and began firing at the massive brute captain. It roared, and ducked behind cover, whipping out its brute shot again.

"Ah, fuck." Fisk muttered, seeing this. "Hit the dirt, guys!" His leg was still in severe pain, but he still managed to throw himself against the Atrium's second floor. Jack and Henley followed quickly as the wall behind them cracked and began to weaken as brute shot projectiles impacted it with extreme force.

"Die, humans!" Jack heard the large brute's deep, guttural, animalistic voice over the hubbub, and frowned.

Just then, though, the brute was distracted. The surviving marines, in a sudden act of bravery, charged the thing, firing at it. It killed one with its brute shot before the belt of projectiles ran out. The massive beast frowned and, noting it was now in danger, turned tail and dashed for the forest as its subordinates were quickly cut down.

"Kill that bastard!" Fisk yelled, limping out onto the wooden barricade and firing after the massive captain's retreating form. Jack reloaded, poked out from around the corner and fired his Assault Rifle too. As the brute began up the incline towards the forest, it suddenly stopped and shuddered—its back was now filled with bullets being fired from the guns of Fisk and Jack. As soon as both of their clips ran dry, it fell forwards to the ground and slid down the hill in a slippery-stream of its own, dark-red blood.

There was a sudden pause and silence over the battlefield as it seemed that the Covenant attack weakened. "Damn, brutes are tough," Jack said aloud, taking in large gulps of air.

"Hey, check it out, they're hightailing it!" Fisk said, pointing in the distance, where a small sliver of the battle on the other side of the northern section of the central structure could be seen. Indeed, the Covies were in retreat towards the rainforest. Jack, Henley, and Fisk ran down to the ground level—near the pipe openings, to get a better view of the Covies being beaten back.

"Whew! That wasn't so bad," Fisk said.

"Maybe in _your _opinion." Jack replied.

"Oy! Jack!" Jack then turned around to see yet another familiar figure charging towards him from the surviving marines—it was, of all people, Peasley. Jack was surprised—he thought that the Australian had deserted.

"Peasley. Good to see you. Was that you who ordered the attack on that big brute?" Jack asked.

Peasley scratched his neck. "I, ah, suggested it, yeah."

"Saved our asses." Henley commented.

"Yeah, thanks, man. I owe you one." Jack said. He noted three other marines, Peasley's comrades, standing in the distance—two men and one woman. He didn't recognize any of them.

Just then, there was an odd noise from above. Simultaneously, Jack heard Alem's voice in his comm. "Eyes up, men! Phantom!"

A massive, purple dropship—a Covenant phantom—had pulled into position directly above the base, a few hundred feet in the air. Small arms fire, not affective in the slightest, began to hit its underside just as the opening near the back of the thing opened. It was a gravity lift, but oddly enough, the gravity function was not active.

Then, a sea of green began to pour out, and the gunfire was drowned out by the sound of buzzing wings. "You gotta be kidding me," Fisk said.

"Drones!"

---

**Think its violent? Oh, we're just getting started. And if you feel like lighting up MY holiday with Winter cheer, I know a GREAT present...constructive criticism! As always, reviews would be appreciated. After all, we're on the final stretch of the story now...and I want to make sure its as awesome as possible.**

**Happy Holidays to all! **


	12. Judgment, Part 2

**Judgment Part 2 is now uploaded...this is the second to last chapter. Here you go.**

"Drones!" Henley said as the things—there were dozens, perhaps scores of them—began filling the sky. He whipped out his SMG and began firing into the sea of insects, which seemed to blot out the sun.

"What the hell!?" Peasley yelled, raising his own SMG and firing. Then, plasma began to rain down, and the buzzing became louder—the things were coming closer.

"Ah, shit!" Jack realized how badly positioned they were—right in the middle of an open area. They needed to get inside, or they would all be dead shortly. "Head for the central structure, right now! Move it, move it, move it!"

Fisk and Henley realized the situation simultaneously, and complied, charging for the building—the agile Henley took the lead, running up a debris-made ramp, and Fisk in the rear, forcing his injured leg to move as fast as it could. The buzzing was so loud Jack wanted to cover his ears now, but none of the three realized they had left a confused Peasley behind.

"Wha—ah! Agh! AUGH!" The drones closed in, and Peasley suddenly felt the sensation of claws tearing across his armor and skin. He fired randomly, but the things—massive insects—seemed to be latched onto him. His screams carried a good distance as he died a gruesome death—the one drone's talons sunk deep into one of his biceps, literally ripping the flesh from the bone, leaving his skeletal arm clean. The drones lifted him up in the air, and his screams carried even farther.

Jack whirled around just in time to see Peasley get covered in the things, and then saw the flesh fly, before watching his friend get carried into the air, still screaming. He felt a pang of sorrow—that was no way for a soldier to die.

But the drone swarm was already picking out new targets; Peasley's surviving team-mates, the other marines that had been with him, headed for the Atrium while firing into the insectoid masses. One drone, still airborne, fired its plasma pistol, cutting down a marine. Its two remaining friends returned fire, killing two more drones, but one was suddenly grabbed from up high—a drone latched onto the front of his body. He yelled and tried to yank it off of his body, but the drone's claws were already lodged into the marine's skin, and it clawed at his face, taking both of its eyes off. The marine fell back and was instantly covered in bugs. The final marine, in panic, charged headlong for the Atrium, and almost made it—but a series of needles stabbed into her flank, and she fell to the ground with a grunt, still crawling towards safety, but a drone suddenly grabbed hold of one of her boots , She yelled, whirled around, and fired her assault rifle point blank at the bug—greenish-yellow fluid spewed everywhere and the drone fell backwards, its exoskeleton pierced by multiple bullets. But five more drones stepped up to take its place, grabbing the marine and dragging her into the sky. She screamed until the eventually decided to drop her, and she fell to her death—though one drone still clutched one of her arms.

"Ahhh, _fuck!_" Henley roared, helplessly watching these proceedings before trying his comm. "Alem, Alem, can you hear me!? Shit!" Jack realized that the sound of the drones' buzzing wings was drowning out communications—that, or they were otherwise jammed or disconnected.

"We need to get the radio back online," Jack said, but before he could elaborate, the three ODSTs were faced with a new problem.

The buzzing was so loud no that Jack was sure he would go deaf pretty soon, and to add to the sound of beating wings was not the chatter of the insects. They were shrieking at each other, moving all around the central structure, trying to find a safe way inside. Jack looked out onto the wooden walkway and saw one of the bugs crawling forward towards him. Jack raised his MA5C and let loose; the bullets pierced the drone's chitinous exoskeleton, and it died with a final, ear-splitting shriek. Its fellows rose up into the air, and Jack saw two fly up into the air behind the corpse of the one he had just killed. He opened fire on them—one got a couple of shots off from its plasma pistol, but both quickly fell to the wooden walkway below—one was still alive with a damaged wing, but Jack quickly finished it off before ducking back into cover and reloading. These things were not tough—with short, controlled bursts, they could be killed. The most dangerous thing about them was their numbers, but if enough were killed, the rest would be unable to put up much of a fight, and would be easy pickings.

Henley looked around from behind the other opening and fired his shotgun—the bullets went straight through a drone's torso, but three more rose to take its place, swooping in towards Henley. Henley fired another burst, killing one more, and raised his SMG with his left hand and opened up—one more drone dropped, riddled with bullets, and the final one flew out of harm's way, towards the mass of other buggers.

"Dun—ne! Fisk! Henley! I need you three to—rive—use bursts of—" there was definitely a good deal of static riddling the comm., and the noise of buzzing was still present, but not as audible as before.

Cutting into the sound of battle were two explosions, one after the other—the remaining rockets had been fired. Jack heard the odd noise of the phantom on the move, and assumed it had been the target, and was now damaged. The noise of the phantom grew fainter and fainter as it flew off, and the shrieks of dying drones now outnumbered the noises of their buzzing wings. Jack looked out from around the corner and did indeed see the creatures dispersing, and fired the remainder of his clip into them, killing two. The drones, now outnumbered, seemed to be on the retreat—but most were cut down before they could get anywhere.

"Dunne, Fisk, Henley, can you hear me?" Alem had survived, at least; the comm. was now clear.

"We're here, Sarge." Henley said, "But Fisk's comm. is out."

"Listen, the Covenant are about to go at it again—I sent you boys a few troops." Jack did see about ten marines running towards them from down the central structure's corridor. "You're responsible for defending that side of the base, soldiers."

"Copy that." Henley looked down to Fisk and Jack. "Jack, stay here. Fisk and I will defend the Atrium."

"Got it," Jack said.

"Hey, you four, you're with us!" Fisk called to five of the marines, who followed them across the wooden walkway.

What Jack was about to do was smarter for defensive purposes, but much more dangerous to himself. "You two, stay up here," He said to two of the marines, who nodded. "The rest of you…we're going down to the front line." They didn't object, and half a minute later, they were all situated behind barriers to the left of the Atrium.

Then, buzzing became audible again. "Shit." The drones flew back out of the forest, and the marines opened fire, but the drones had come with reinforcements; backing them was a large number of brutes, grunts, and jackals.

The UNSC soldiers opened fire, and bodies began to fall. However, very quickly, a marine one barrier over to the left fell backwards, his ribcage visible through the burned remains of his torso. "Hit 'em hard, marines!" Jack yelled, poking up behind cover and putting an entire clip into a brute minor. It lived, and ducked behind a barrier about fifteen feet up, roaring in pain from its injured thigh.

That was when two plasma grenades flew across the battlefield—Fisk's looted plasmas, to be exact. One landed right on the brute's shoulder, and barely even had time to yell in alarm. The other hit the barrier next to the brute, blowing the flimsy thing to slag.

"C'mon, you bastards! C'mon!" He heard Fisk taunting just as about twenty more brute-led troops charged out and engaged the human soldiers. Another marine died, his body falling over in front of the barrier he was hiding behind.

"Shit, we're gonna be over-run," Jack thought aloud. He looked back and saw the broken wall of the Atrium, a possible escape. "Fall back to the Atrium!" He said, waving to the remaining two marines. They complied, sprinting for cover, just before one fell on his side, a hole through his head as the hiss of a beam rifle became audible. "Shit, sniper! Get in cover!" Jack dashed as fast as he could for the Atrium, scrambling up the debris into its second level. Henley grabbed his hand and helped him up.

"You need to get back over to the central building, Jack. Otherwise they'll tale it from us." Henley stated. Jack nodded, and got ready to run out across the wooden walkway. Bracing himself, he dashed out, and leapt into the central structure, startling the two marines inside of it. After giving them a quick 'watch for snipers', he got up and began to fire on the Covenant troops below, before things got a whole lot worse.

"IN-CO-MING!" Fisk screamed as a light-blue armored brute with a fuel-rod broke cover, roared, and fired at the Atrium. The explosion took out another section of walling, leaving Fisk and Henley exposed to incoming fire.

---

A gold-armored Jiralhanae captain clutched its Covenant Carbine in fear, but not of its enemy. Instead, it was afraid of Chieftain Kronus.

"We seem to have underestimated their strength, Chieftain," He said, fear visible in not only his voice and eyes, but also his stench. "But with a little more time, the humans will be dead."

"More time?" Kronus roared at the captain. "The frontline of humans still stands, though it should have fallen long ago!" Hadius, standing behind Kronus, frowned slightly. "Malkanus, I instructed you to destroy all of the humans with the second wave, not to let the humans destroy you. Perhaps you forgot what happens to those who do not adequately complete their tasks?" Kronus snarled, and Malkanus was about to stammer out an apology when Kronus grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and, in a true show of strength, hoisted the fellow Jiralhanae up into the air. "Worthless fool!" He roared, throwing the brute down to the ground. "I will take these humans myself! Hadius, kill this one." With that, Kronus turned on his feel, and stalked off towards the battlefield, readying his gravity hammer, leaving the toppled Malkanus at the mercy of Hadius, who stared down at him.

"Hadius, I—" Before Malkanus could finish, Hadius had brought his foot down on the younger Jiralhanae's head, crushing it flat. Then he activated his active camouflage, and charged towards the far side of Ghost Town.

---

If the brute with the fuel rod cannon didn't die soon, Henley and Fisk were going to be burned to a crisp. Jack was determined to stop the beast.

He instantly took action, arming both of his fragmentation grenades and lobbing them at the brute with the fuel rod. It was charging closer towards the Atrium—now almost at the column that marked one of its edges—when it was blown apart by the grenades, its fuel rod hitting the ground. At the same time, one of the marines next to Jack lost its head to a sniper.

What Jack saw next was awe-inspiring.

As soon as the brute with the fuel rod died, Fisk leapt out of cover and charged toward the Covenant line—jackals, brutes, grunts, at least twenty in number. He stopped suddenly and hefted up the fuel rod of the dead brute, and laughed maniacally as he began to fire it into the Covenant masses.

It was insane; explosion after explosion hit the Covenant line, taking down at least a dozen in a matter of seconds. As soon as most of the Covenant died, however, and secondary grenades on their persons went off, adding to the carnage/ The result was a massive explosion that took out all of the Covenant. Fisk gave a holler of joy, and attempted to reload the fuel rod as more Covenant ran in.

"Holy…holy shit." The marine next to Jack said.

"Dunne, you still alive?" It was Alem.

"Aye, sir."

"We need you over here, now! Something has the Covenant real angry, and they're making a huge push."

"Got it," Jack said, turning an charging towards north-left.

…Meanwhile, Fisk was still laughing, trying to slap a new number of projectiles into his fuel rod, when there was a barely noticeable flicker of moment behind him. Then, he froze, and the fuel rod fell from his hands as he made a low moaning noise. Behind him, a single stalker brute materialized—it had silvery fur, and the blades of its spiker were lodged into the back of Fisk's armor, piercing through to his skin. It was the brute that had led the night raid.

The brute pulled the trigger once, and a single spike was fired into Fisk's back. Fisk soundlessly fell forward, sliding off of the bloody bayonets and fitting the ground below with a soft thud.

The brute chuckled to itself, staring down at the dead body of Fisk. It then turned towards the Atrium and suddenly had a shotgun's barrel a few inches from its face.

"Hi, motherfucker," Henley growled. "Remember me?"

---

On the far side of the base, next to the forest's edge, Gregory Rodgers took aim with his sniper rifle and fired, felling a jackal with a beam rifle a good distance away. He was now focusing on the marksmen; Alem, with his Battle Rifle, could take out most of the brutes with marine assistance—and, if things got bad, he could always simply switch targets to assist the sergeant.

With no more snipers to be seen, Rodgers scanned the Covenant line for a target. A grunt here, a jackal there—he spotted a brute minor with a spiker, and was about to score a headshot when the thing was killed by machine-gun fire.

He was about to continue searching for targets when there was a loud smashing noise in the undergrowth nearby, which slowly grew louder and louder. Rodgers quite suddenly realized what was about to happen, and threw himself to the right.

A massive blur or red and black smashed through the undergrowth—it was a massive, black-furred beast that was over eight feet tall, and wore the ceremonial armor of a chieftain. And, to top it all off, it was holding a gravity hammer.

The Chieftain swung its weapon downwards in an arc, blowing the cover that Rodgers had just been hiding behind to smithereens. Rodgers was not completely out of the blast radius, however, and one of his legs quite suddenly broke. He ignored the pain and tried to stand, raising his magnum sidearm and getting off a single shot before the brute Chieftain swung its hammer sideways, catching Rodgers in the stomach with its bladed side. The blow carried him up and smashed him against the wall, leaving a large line of blood on it. When the chieftain brought his hammer back up, Gregory Rodgers slumped to the ground, motionless.

Suffice to say this got the attention of the marines that had been defending the walkway to Rodger's right—one of which was Alem. "Rodgers!" There was no reply, and the Chieftain let out a booming roar. "Open fire, marines! Open fire!"

Small arms fire from more than a dozen soldiers started towards the Chieftain, but its shields absorbed the first bullets with ease. Then, from behind it, leapt four massive brute warriors—bodyguards.

Things on the walkway developed into a complete brawl, and that brawl was exactly what Jack saw when he came around the corner.

He lifted his Assault Rifle and released a hose of bullets at one of the distant bodyguards, causing it to falter. Alem, along with the majority of the marines, backpedaled furiously from the four guards—but the Covenant advancing from the North caught them on edge. They were trapped, now, and they began to die.

Alem's Battle Rifle ran dry, and he hurled it away, whipping out his own MA5C with an adrenaline-filled roar. He then turned and saw Jack standing there, and yelled, "Fall back! Get to the ops. Center! Fall back!"

Jack turned and began to head towards the top of the central structure, which led to the garage/ops. Center, when he saw something that made him stop. As the marines around Alem were cut down, some managed to retreat towards the Ops. Center themselves, but a looming beast was charging straight at Alem. It as going headlong at him—it had circled around and was now heading straight for him, and the two made eye-contact. Alem, just after finishing off a nearby grunt, turned and backed up slowly while releasing a stream of bullets at the Chieftain. Jack, too, raised his weapon and fired, but the Chieftain's shields took it as it got ever closer and closer. Jack held the trigger as the Chieftain swung its hammer, causing a distortion in the air—just before the hammer hit the ground. Alem leapt backwards, avoiding the blow—though it propelled him backwards, and he hit the wall and slumped downwards. He was far from out cold, though, and raised his MA5C and continued to fire at the brute chieftain, who charged at him again, though the Chieftain's shields flickered now, and then broke. It roared and hurled itself towards Alem—

"Get down!" Something shoved Jack down, causing him to miss what happened next. Just above him a brute shot's projectile detonated, causing part of the wall to crumble. "You heard him, Jack, we need to get to the garage!" Jack recognized Henley's voice as the big man helped him back up. "Move it!"

The Covenant were closing on them. In a single, fluid motion, Jack whirled around, armed his stolen spike grenade, and attached it to the wall before vaulting over the cover at the foot of the central structure's central opening. As he did, though, he felt a sudden and sharp pain on his right elbow, and gave a scream. Henley half led, half dragged him into the main room (top floor) of the central structure, and Jack saw that the had a single spike lodged in his elbow. Behind him, he heard the spike grenade explode, and a brute let out a muffled roar of pain.

"Ahhh!" Jack yelled in pain, falling over to the floor of the room—half of which had been blown out.

"Get up!" Henley roared desperately, pulling Jack to move. "Fight through the pain! Not too much farther to the structure."

Jack winced as he managed to move his right arm—a bit. "Where's Fisk!?"

"Resting in peace. We're the only ones left." Jack paused, nodding sadly, but quickly refocused.

The two bolted out onto the metallic catwalk that connected the central structure to the ops. Center. Already they could hear the roars of pursuing Covenant, brutes in particular. Jack clutched his assault rifle in a death grip, and Henley stood behind him.

Jack made it across the catwalk and whirled around to see Henley standing on it, firing shotgun rounds at an approaching group of brutes. Jack raised his rifle, but suddenly the leading brute—a minor—opened fire, letting loose with a stream of spikes. Henley's body spasmed and shuddered, just before he fell backwards, visor pointed at the sky as the brutes spotted Jack.

"HENLEY! NO!" Jack screamed, and opened fire while ducking to the right—but he had seen it. Henley was gone…he was the last man standing.

Jack screamed in a combination of pain from his elbow and a boost of adrenaline as he suddenly found himself charging out back at the brutes, only to be met face to face with a brute captain, who barged into Jack, sending him sprawling backwards. He hit the wall behind him with a thud—

**...See you guys next time. **


	13. Last One Out, Get the Lights

**Hey, guys. Last chapter of the fic is here...And I feel the need to point out that, to the line, it is a full seven pages. There's a _subconscious _7 reference for you...**

**Without further ado, here is the conclusion of Multiplayer Chronicles: Ghost Town. Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year!**

---'Last one Out, Get the Lights'

Everything was a blur…a big, groggy, painful blur. If one thing was certain, it was the pain that he was experiencing. Slowly, though, over the course of minutes and a few low groans, his vision improved.

And he suddenly wished it hadn't; Jack was staring into the face of a dead marine.

He looked left to right, and then regretted that too, for two reasons; firstly, his neck was in serious pain. Secondly, it was then he realized that he was atop of a pile of corpses. It was the dead of night.

Jack, still lying there on the body-pile, came to a quick conclusion; the brutes were collecting bodies, and he had been mistaken for dead. But…why? What had…

Then, all the memories came back; the battle, the shrieks, the gunfire, seeing Peasley get ripped to shreds, Fisk blowing the Covenant away with a Fuel Rod, Alem's standoff with the Chieftain, Henley's death…He remembered.

He noted a harsh pain in his right arm—ah, yes, the spike. He felt another pain, though, in his ribcage—it felt like something had kicked him while he had been unconscious, which was more than possible.

He moved his sore neck a little bit more, and realized that he was in the Atrium—just a few feet away from the wooden walkway connecting it to the central structure. He looked to his left, down the length of the Atrium, and spotted a group of aliens…grunts. Three, two wearing orange and one wearing red, were asleep, and the fourth one in orange) trotted about, probably on watch duty. He could see the sleepiness in its movement.

Jack didn't know exactly what he planned to do, but he sure as hell wasn't going to just sit atop this pile of bodies forever. He needed to get out, and the first step to doing that was taking out the guards.

He waited until the grunt that was awake turned its back to the body-pile, and then rolled off of it, hitting the ground with a thud…the grunt didn't seem to notice the noise. It was then that Jack realized that, while he had no Assault Rifle, his pistol was still attached to his hip. It might come in handy, but for the sake of stealth, he would leave it alone for now.

He experimentally moved his joints, forcing them to comply, and then was motionless when the grunt turned around and started back towards him, plasma pistol in hand. It strolled up to the pile of bodies and examined it quizzically—Jack stifled the noise of his breathing and tried to remain inconspicuous. The grunt wouldn't be able to see his expression through his silvery-blue visor, though, so he looked quite dead.

After what seemed an eternity, the grunt turned around again, which was when Jack made his move. The grunt only had time for a short yelp as Jack grabbed it, ripped off its breathing apparatus, and held its mouth closed. It struggled, vainly attempting to punch him, until Jack quickly and quietly snapped the alien's neck. It fell over, dead. The sleeping grunts did not wake up, not noting the muffled struggles of their comrade—they were in a deep slumber.

Jack grabbed the grunt's re-breather and corpse and roughly dragged them to the pile of UNSC bodies, concealing the grunt as best as he could in the pile. He then turned, and saw a single body propped against the nearby wall. He frowned and felt a deep, burning sorrow.

She looked peaceful, propped up against the wall there. The only thing to give away that she was gone was her bloodstained armor and a large wound, presumably from a carbine, in her stomach. Jack sadly pulled his eyes off the dead form of Kayla. Another dead marine…

One of the grunts mumbled in its sleep. Jack casually strolled over to it and whipped out his combat knife, slitting its throat. It made no more noise, and the fatal injury was barely noticeable…Jack didn't bother hiding the grunt body.

Then, in the distance, he heard something worrying—footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Jack desperately looked for a quick escape and, finding none, hurled himself against the side of the marine corpse-pile.

He couldn't see the brute walk in, but he certainly could smell it—it was a foul smell that went right through the ODST helmet filters. The thing growled, and then made its way over to the pile of corpses. Jack was terrified—the beast was standing right over him!

It then laughed darkly, and then—adding to Jack's horror, grabbed him by his neck and began dragging him towards the central structure.

For a second, Jack thought that he had been discovered—but then he realized that this brute was not showing any signs of alarm or discontent. It had thought Jack was dead, just like the grunt. Jack held in a sigh of relief and attempted to go as limp as possible as the brute dragged him away…

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of light—it moved in a lifelike way, and there was no mistaking it—a fire was burning.

The brute dragged him towards the basin—north-left—and the glow of the flames grew brighter and brighter. It was then that Jack realized that the brute was dragging him _towards _the fire—it was going to cook him. The dead marines were being cooked, and devoured.

He got a good view, then, because the brute flipped him over. The fire's edge was only a few feet away now, and in the distance—on the walkway that Alem had once defended—he saw a large, black and red figure, overseeing the proceedings. Jack would have to make a move; in a few seconds, he would be thrown into the fire. He tensed, reaching for his magnum…

"Chieftain!" The brute minor holding him froze and looked up; Jack did the same, only to see a different brute minor run over to the black-and-red monstrosity in the distance.

"What, minor?" Their voices were faint, but Jack could hear them…and the Covies seemed to be listening intently.

"Two of the grunts guarding the human bodies are dead, Chieftain. Something butchered them in their sleep." Jack frowned. Not good. "We also found this, next to one of their bodies."

In the distance, very faintly, Jack noted the glint of his combat knife. _Fuck._

The Chieftain let out an angry bellow. "A human lives! Tell the warriors to begin searching the encampment for survivors!"

"Yes, Chieftain." Out of the corner of his eye, Jack watched in horror as the Chieftain suddenly looked at him.

"…You! Minor! Bring that carcass here!" Jack felt himself being dragged towards the Chieftain by the brute holding him. If that Chieftain suspected he was alive, better to make a break for it now.

Jack, mustering all of the force he could, punched the minor brute in the side…to no affect. It roared, realizing its possession was indeed alive, and swatted Jack's fist aside, almost breaking it. Jack yelled in pain and then looked up as he realized that the brute was about to bash his skull in—

"Bring that human to me, minor. Alive." The minor paused, and Jack saw it look over at the Chieftain. It nodded slowly, growled at Jack, and then dragged him up. There was no need for subtlety; Jack struggled to the best of his ability.

The Chieftain laughed.

Jack was thrown down before the massive brute, and was on his knees, looking up at the Chieftain…the throw hurt him, badly…he suspected a couple of ribs were broken, and he could barely even feel his right arm anymore.

The Chieftain smiled darkly, pulling the gravity hammer off of its back. Jack looked up at it, and the jungle behind it…this was it.

Jack wasn't the kind of person who was expecting his life to flash before his eyes—and, fittingly, it didn't. He just sat there, thinking about his life as the Chieftain's smile grew even wider.

Jack also wasn't the kind of person who would say 'I regret nothing' upon his death…he regretted plenty of things in his life. As he waited for the finishing blow, however, he did not feel dissatisfied with the life he'd lived. The things in his life that he _didn't _regret outnumbered the amount of things he did regret. As a boy, Jack had been told to always be glad with what he had—to recognize how fortunate he was, and to pity those who were not as fortunate. And he still held that mentality. Many would say that they regretted entering the military to fight the Covenant; chances of injury and death were higher than ever in the corps., and the Covenant seemed unstoppable. But, when Jack thought of his decision to join the UNSC, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

…Then he was violently shaken from his thoughts by the booming voice of the Chieftain.

"Poor, weak little human." Jack grew angry at the chiding tone of the Chieftain; he wanted to pull himself up and hurl himself at it…but he was too weak…if only he had the strength to get out his pistol, he could at least hurt it a bit…he recognized a good deal of bulletmarks on the front of its armor, undoubtedly put there by the late sergeant Nasser Alem. In the back of his head, Jack hoped that the sergeant rested in peace.

"Did you, perhaps, mean to escape? Your cowardly species might attempt such a thing." The Chieftain's teeth glinted in the moonlight. "Look at yourself, human. Your kind has lost…you are being hunted like the beasts you are, to the very ends of your own homeworld." He laughed. "I interrogated one of your fellows, one of the black-armored humans, like yourself. He thought you were strong…how wrong he was. Your friend Nobdy lies dead, human, and you shall soon join him…for I, Chieftain Kronus, shall send you to the wretched afterlife your heretical breed deserves!"

As the Chieftain raised his hammer, Jack realized what had just been said. Nobdy. _Nobody_.

He had the last laugh.

He closed his eyes and waited for it to end, for the hammer to come down. Before it did, however, there was a very odd sounding noise—a repetitive hissing. Then, the Chieftain gave a roar.

Jack looked up and saw, behind the Chieftain, a phantom—but it was not a regular one. He was too weak to be able to note much, but he could tell that the phantom had been painted a sloppy shade of green. He saw a figure in red—an alien—behind a turret, firing plasma bolt after plasma bolt into the Chieftain's back; the Chieftain turned with a roar and pointed his hammer in the direction of the phantom, rallying his troops. The brutes were under attack…Jack knew not why, but he felt an adrenaline burst.

The Chieftain's shield's broke, and he whirled around, heading for cover. But then he paused, and looked down at Jack, the human he had been about to execute…it had its little pistol out, steadied with both arms, pointed directly at the Chieftain's head. The massive brute roared something in its own tongue—Jack guessed that it was the brute equivalent of 'fuck'.

He fired, and the shot flew true; a spray of blood hit the ground, closely followed by its owner…the Brute Chieftain now had a large hole in its head.

---

The majority of the Sangheili navy were still in orbit around Installation 05, or otherwise spread about the galaxy, fighting the false Covenant and the Parasite—the Flood. However, the Arbiter had come to Earth as an Emissary, and similarly, some elites had come with him. One particular group of Sangheili warriors arrived at the human encampment of 'Ghost Town'—just a day or two ago, they had taken a phantom from Jiralhanae forces, and had barely had time to paint it a sloppy shade of green, marking it as a Separatist-controlled vessel—before learning of an act of heroism on the behalf of the humans. A group of them had made a valiant defense at the human camp codenamed 'Ghost Town', but they had been overrun a few days earlier. The humans could not spare any of their dropships, so the Sangheili Spec. Ops. team had decided, to show their support of the newly-constructed human-Sangheili alliance, they would investigate with their own vessel.

And now they were here, in their phantom, in and among the brutes. The had floated into the large clearing and one of the turret-wielders, spotting a Chieftain, had opened fire.

The sides of the phantom unfolded just in time for the Sangheili on the interior to spot the Chieftain fall, slain.

A great, mighty roar rose from the proud warriors, who opened up on the startled Jiralhanae and their subordinates—plasma rifles, carbines, needlers, and other weapons sounded throughout the night.

Among the elites was a single elite wearing a bright-red combat harness with black undertones—a he had been a major domo, but had recently been given the task of leading special operations units, and had been proud to paint the black that signified such warriors onto parts off his armor as well.

"Slay them, my brothers!" He roared, firing from his carbine. "Let your weapons sing!"

And his kinsmen did, with battle cries. The brutes, disassembled and without a commander, were unable to put up a fitting resistance—with roars, they retreated farther into the base. The red and black armored Sangheili leapt to the ground below, surveying the scene of carnage they had just caused. He turned to his phantom and ordered his brothers to dismount and move in on foot.

As soon as he turned around, however, a Stalker brute, previously unseen, dashed from cover with a roar, raising the bayonets of its spiker.

The Sangheili whirled around like lightning, pulling a hilt off of his hip and activating it—an energy sword gleamed to life and slid right through the stalker's armor and torso—the dual tips of the energy sword shone on the other side of the brute, shining in the night.

"Not today, _brute_," The Sangheili said quietly to the shocked and impaled brute, before pulling his energy sword back out of the primate. It fell to the ground as its allies were beaten back, and the Sangheili turned to his kinsmen.

"Sweep through the base, my brothers, and wipe out any resistance. Search for human survivors."

"Leader," the Sangheili turned, spotting a purple-armored Sangheili dual-wielding plasma rifles. "I suggest that we create a perimeter around this encampment before searching for humans."

"'Tylom," The leading Sangheili said, almost accidentally adding the old Covenant 'ee' suffix, "I know that you wish to hunt the Jiralhanae to the last, as do I, but that is not our objective here. We came in search of human survivors, not to kill Jiralhanae."

'Tylom gave a discontented huff, but said, "Yes, brother. It shall be done," And dashed into the central building. The Sangheili were still very suspicious of humanity, and the relationship was very tense, after so many years of war—but the Major Domo knew that, if they had to show their support for the humans, they needed to return to the human troops with more than just a report of killing brutes.

"Brother 'Synal!" The Sangheili—'Synal by name—whirled around and saw another one of his fellows. An elite wearing a blue combat harness had a single human in black armor slung over his shoulder. "I think that this human is alive!"

"Are you sure, 'Zinom?" 'Zinom was a young warrior from a merchant family—a fairly disdainful background to the proud 'Synal, who was of the nobility—but he was a bold warrior. 'Zinom had more than earned 'Synal's respect, and vice versa.

"Yes, leader. He moves, but barely. I believe he is unconscious."

"Move him onto the phantom. We must get him to a medical facility as soon as possible—he doubtlessly has quite a tale to tell."

---fin---

**...Okay, before you go, I gotta say...I kinda lied. There is actually ONE more chapter to come. It'll be...well...you'll see. Stay tuned!**


	14. Afterword

**Hey guys...And Danielle.  
**

**As promised, here's the last chapter. ...Which isn't an epilogue, or anything. In truth, I've given you guys a good deal of extras to read, if you're interested. I think most of them are either alternate endings or references to youtube...Plus an Abridged version of the story you just read, which I hope fills up any plotholes. Anyhow...here goes.  
**

Ending #2:

…

Henley's body spasmed and shuddered, just before he fell backwards, visor pointed at the sky as the brutes spotted Jack.

"HENLEY! NO!" Jack screamed, and opened fire while ducking to the right—but he had seen it. Henley was gone…he was the last man standing.

Jack screamed in a combination of pain from his elbow and a boost of adrenaline as he suddenly found himself charging out back at the brutes, only to be met face to face with a brute captain, who barged into Jack, sending him sprawling backwards. He hit the wall behind him with a thud and slid down to the floor, barely still alive—he suspected that his back was broken.

Jack helplessly looked up as four brutes surrounded him, raising their weapons. Jack realized what was about to happen, and time seemed to stop for a split second as his brain raced.

There was no escaping his death…but he did not need to. Still, Jack wasn't the kind of person who would say 'I regret nothing' upon his death…he regretted plenty of things in his life. However, he did not feel dissatisfied with the life he'd lived. The things in his life that he _didn't _regret outnumbered the amount of things he did. As a boy, Jack had been told to always be glad with what he had—to recognize how fortunate he was, and to pity those who were not as fortunate. And he still held that mentality. Many would say that they regretted entering the military to fight the Covenant; chances of injury and death were higher than ever in the corps., and the Covenant seemed unstoppable. But, when Jack thought of his decision to join the UNSC, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Jack closed his eyes, and the brutes opened fire.

---fin---

**The reason I wanted to use this ending initially is because it gets rid of the cheesiness of the other ending to some extent. It also leaves the Kronus versus Alem conflict without an ending, leaving it up to the reader to decide if Kronus fell prey to the ODST leader or not. **

**However, there were some things that this ending didn't tie up—for example, what happens to the character 'Kayla'. That, and other things, made me decide to scrap this ending.**

**Here is another…**

Ending #3:

…"Did you, perhaps, mean to escape? Your cowardly species might attempt such a thing." The Chieftain's teeth glinted in the moonlight. "Look at yourself, human. Your kind has lost…you are being hunted like the beasts you are, to the very ends of your own homeworld." He laughed. "I interrogated one of your fellows, one of the black-armored humans, like yourself. He thought you were strong…how wrong he was. Your friend Nobdy lies dead, human, and you shall soon join him…for I, Chieftain Kronus, shall send you to the wretched afterlife your heretical breed deserves!"

As the Chieftain raised his hammer, Jack realized what had just been said. Nobdy. _Nobody_.

He had the last laugh.

---fin---

**This is actually exactly the same as the dialogue before the elites show up at the end—the key point being that its **_**before**_** the elites show up. To be honest, the elites are kind of a deus-ex-machina, and I didn't initially want to include them just because they seem so out of place (not because I don't like 'em; I'm planning an elite-centric fan fiction in the future. …Maybe).**

**This ending also makes bigger point of the 'Nobody' thing, which is a reference to part of the Odyssey, where Odysseus tricks a Cyclops by telling the Cyclops that Odysseus is named 'Nobody'. I wanted to throw in the reference because it is somewhat symbolic. However, Zhao is not one of the major characters in the story, so I didn't know if it would be fitting to connect the last lines directly to him…so I eventually decided to include the elites to wrap things up with a little more than just 'having the last laugh'. **

**AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO…RANDOMNESS.**

Kronus sighed, adjusting his red-and-black helmet as he prepared to address his army.

"Uh…okay guys…These heathens have given us a lot of trouble in the past, so, uh…does anyone need anything off these guys, or can we just bypass 'em?"

It was a logical question. Kronus' army was preparing to attack a human base right in the middle of a giant forest. They could always have just…walked past the goddamn human fortress.

"Uh…" Carinus said, walking up behind Kronus. "I think the Unggoy need something off these guys."

Kronus let out an annoyed grunt, looking over at the disgruntled…grunts. "Do they need more methane, or…don't they already have some methane?"

Carinus paused in thought. "…Yeah, but, uh, this'll help them in battle."

Kronus sighed again, now forced to engage the fortress. "Christ…" He began to compose a battle plan, dictating it out to his soldiers. "Alright, um…what we'll do, is, uh…I'm gonna need the Kig-Yar to go in first with their shields and just start screeching to freak the heretics out. Then my Jiralhanae will come in and throw down a shout as well, y'know, keep the humans distracted. The Unggoy will move around and engage from the sides, and we'll bring in the Yanme'e with a phantom to drop down some cover fire. Uh, I feel pretty confident—Hadius, can I get a, uh, number crunch real quick?"

"Yeah, sure." Hadius pulled out a TI-84 calculator, mashed the buttons, and examined the screen. "Yeah, um, I'm coming up with a…77.7% probability of survival."

Hadius seemed satisfied. "Okay, well, that's a lot better than we usually do, so guys, are we rea—"

"Alright TIME'S UP, LET'S DO THIS—_**UNGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY JENKINS!!**_" An Unggoy minor roared, charging through the brush at the human base.

There was an awkward silence.

"…Oh my God, he just ran in," said Carinus.

"SAVE HIM!!" Hadius roared.

"Aw jeez, here we go—"

"Go! Stick to the plan, chubs!"

"Ah, Jesus," Kronus muttered, his voice lost in the general hubbub of his horde. "Ah, fuck—"

The Covenant forces charged into the clearing, immediately coming under attack from the humans. "Okay, let's go—"

"Jesus, are those machine guns!? Let's—"

"Okay, go, go…"

"It won't let me attack! I can't fire with this shi—"

"Ohhh God—the humans are respawning or something!"

"Oh, shit, I'm dead, I'm dead," Carinus muttered, falling to the ground in a bloody spray.

"God DAMNIT! Ah, shit!" Kronus yelled into his comm.., charging through the fray and trying to kill as many humans as he could. God damnit, Unggoy—"

"Shit, I'm down."

"They got me! Oh NOOO—" Kronus murmured expletives as, seeing that the battle was taking a turn for the worse, he attempted to flee. But there were simply too many humans.

"God _damnit_, Unggoy." He repeated as his shields failed, and bullets pounded into his skin. "I'm down…fuck." Bleeding profusely and crawling around the ground, he looked up angrily at the rapidly-dying Unggoy. "Great job, Unggoy, great job."

"S'not my fault!" The foolish Unggoy who had charged—Unggoy Jenkins—replied despondently, a wound present in its arm.

"God damnit…" Hadius muttered as a group of marines began to kick his motionless form's shins.

"Okay, guys…where are we respawning?" Kronus muttered into the comm. He was met, to his suspicion, with silence. "We _are _respawning, aren't we?"

"Um…I think one of the skulls we have on stops us from doing that."

"God _DAMNIT!_" Kronus said—it hadn't been _his _idea to play the goddamn meta-game. "Unggoy, you are just stupid as hell."

"At least I have chicken," The Unggoy retorted.

**MOAR RANDOMNESS...(here's a quick summary of everything that happens in the story. Sort of. Kind of. ...Not really.)**

--- chapter one

A bunch of ODSTs stood outside a base. "Sweet. Check out that base." A big English one said.

"I know, right?" A smaller one named Fisk said. Then the big English guy punched him in the face. "Ow!"

"I'm nervous," a guy named Jack said to his friend Andrew.

"I care about that," Andrew replied.

Then they walked into the base, and Henley almost got capped. "SHIIIIIIIT!" He shouted.

"Sup?" Alem asked Lieutenant Cross.

"Nothin' much."

--- chapter two

...Oh, wait. Chapter two is actually chapter one. Oops.

--- chapter three

The ODSTs kill some brutes. That's really it.

"...SHIIIIIIIIT!" Henley shouted.

--- chapter four

"GUYS! FETCH ME CARINUS! AND A SAMMICH!" Kronus yelled at his minions.

"Can I get you numba?" Jack asked Kayla. She was creeped out.

--- chapter five

"SHIT! WE GOT COVIES ALL UP INS!!1!" Cross yelled.

"SHIT!" Henley said in shock.

"...Why is everybody cursing?" Fisk asked. Henley punched him again.

Then they killed lots of brutes, including one with a fuel rod. But nobody cares about that.

--- chapter six...

Jack woke up in the middle of the night and saw something flicker in front of him. "Is that a brute? OH SHIT!!" He yelled.

Then Henley punched it in the face. Or maybe he shot it. I dunno.

-- chapter seven

"...I die in this one!" Lansing said sadly, breaking the fourth wall by accident. "...Shit!"

--- chapter eight

"_Bitch_," Kronus growled, hefting Zhao up into the air, "You _WILL_ tell me the defensive layout of your encampment...And get me some waffle fries..._FO' FREE!!_"

"No. Kay thanks." The Helljumped replied. Just before the Chieftain killed him, he declared, "THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE HIGHLANDER!!"

...meanwhile...

"Marines, this is ODST captain Alem." Upon hearing his mike crackle, Jack whipped listened; after the brutes had performed the midnight raid, he was expecting someone to give a moral-boosting speech. He didn't get one, though. "Dun wury guize...its k."

---chapter nine

"SPARTANS!!" Alem roared. "TONIGHT...WE DINE...IN HELL!"

Then Hutson died. That_ sucks._

---chapter ten

"...So, Hutson died last chapter." Henley said. "...Yeah."

"Dude!" Fisk said. "You managed to say a sentence without cursing! Nice--"

"SHIT!" Henley interrupted him.

...meanwhile...

"I am SO angry right now," Kronus muttered. "...And where the hell is that sammich?"

---JUDGMENT TIME

"So, uh…" Jack began awkwardly, as Kayla turned around. "…Can I get yo' numba?"

She looked at him awkwardly.

"OHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIT!" Henley shouted as a group of brutes appeared.

"…Do you do anything except curse, dude?" Fisk asked.

"SHIIIT!" Jack screamed from nearby, annoying Fisk even further.

"Oh my Lawd!" Fisk said, looking up into the sky. "Is that a drone?"

**--- **MOAR JUDGMENT!!

"Aw jeez," Fisk said as he got stabbed. "My killing spree!"

**"**Ow!" Rodgers when he got thrown into a wall. "...Why didn't I get any decent lines?" He manage to mumble just before dying.

"I will now proceed to fight your gravity hammer with my assault rifle!" Alem shouted, charging Kronus. "BYAAAAH!"

"Hey guize, I killed Hadius," Henley said proudly before getting shot. "SHIIIIIIIIT!"

"NOEZ! HENLEY!" Jack said. Then someone threw him at at a wall, and he passed out.

---chapter 13

"HAY GUIZE LOL," Tylom' said as he flew in on a phantom. "I hope you like plot holes!"

Then the elites killed everyone and saved Jack, just after he killed Kronus. "SHIT!" Kronus screamed as he died.

The end.

P.S.: Whoever your favorite character is, he/she dies. Trust me.

P.P.S.: SHIIIIIIIIIIT!!

---fin---

**With that parody of a common youtube jokes (among other things) out of the way, I guess…well…I guess that's it from me. And I AM familiar with the fact that all some characters do is curse in the story. I abridged version of the story was a parody. Sorry if it just straight up wasn't funny. If its terrible, blame Danielle; she was bothering me when I was writing it. (...just pretend you know who that is).  
**

**Of course, this might not be the last we see of Zhao, Jack , Alem, and all the others; I'm thinking about writing a prequel. I dunno, though—not that many people pay attention to the story, it seems.**

**But, to those of you who do, I feel the need to thank you—all of you. You reviewers have been a source of inspiration and have been an invaluable force that keeps me writing…its great to know that somebody out there is interested in your work.**

**So…well…we had a good run, guys. It was fun. And its not you…its me. **

**Peace!  
**

**--KEEP IT CLEAN--**


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